Future Through the Past
by DidgeByWrite
Summary: Give Fates or old foes an inch, watch them snatch your world away. Whether one hails from old centuries or new, Gods help the souls who learn that lesson. And for whoever crosses Captain Leela these days, pray they come out alive... (Less Than Hero!AU)
1. No Fairytale Finale (as of July 14th)

**UPDATE (14th July 2020): Change-up of story summary, including alternate universe setting.**

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Never a crime they couldn't fight, situation they'd cower from, or call of duty to ignore…

Even before the accidental discovery of Miracle Cream, you'd find it rare to have best buddies Fry and Bender in your employ, and rarer still for pilots like Leela. The can-do Captain of the crew, and a whole other side to arrive over the anonymous citizen to call them.

As the waterworks gushed and sharp breaths hurried, they'd promise a reward of great returns if they could put to rest their grave fears over an escaped creature. One that even the best conservationists dared not interfere, one that forced their search for the New Justice Team.

"Already taken twenty hunters twenty years to capture them! Oh please, please, could you bring 'em back safe?"

"We hear you, and we're on our way. By Justice, I'll ensure that everything will be fine."

A click of her phone, her bedroom door slid shut, and only moments until she emerged as Clobberella. The signal she'd rise above the city skyline; eager to prove himself more, Fry would stand proud outside her door as Captain Yesterday.

A break-in of Planet Express HQ to soon collect Bender, hesitant to leave his home never mind be a hero. Took that call to convince him, to break past those starlit skies. Around planets they'd pass before, through wormholes they didn't shy from, before they'd land on the outskirts of the Milky Way Galaxy.

She hoped to get "filthy stinking rich" and help save the environment, even against her crew's reservations. After all, as she reassured them since taking the helm as Head Pilot, she hadn't lost a single crewman despite all the dangers they had crossed.

And so, Captain on her right, King on her left, she'd lead them forward on that endless clearing, all those creatures to look her way before tongues lapped lakes or teeth tore into hunted flesh. A stroll to soon have Yesterday clutch his knees, costume like a lead weight, as they finally found that elusive thing in question.

An arachnid-dragonfly cross that hovered about, minded its own business. What she called cute her friends called horrifying; Yesterday leapt into King's arms only to eat grass for the efforts. A coax of little coos onto her hand, about to pet it before it sank fangs through her glove.

"OW, you son-of-a—"

Might've punched its brains in, until she found her space intruded by her friends. For upon the bite, all manner of cats, insects, reptiles and more would sound their worst intentions; baiting pheromone it would seem.

Heroes could do little but stare about, now afraid of the first move. Cats to crouch in position, reptiles to hiss or flex necks, mammals to open maws ready to chomp them in half.

Number one rule of such fights, one of quite religious 'coding', was to run.

Super King would belch flames to drive the creatures back, before taking the opening to race out and leave the rest. A declaration of "I'll save ME!" as he ditched his cape and blasted dust for the safety of the ship.

Yesterday and Clobberella to clutch each other, before he gave a Herculean effort to lift and toss her over the shrinking circle. Just orders to get themselves to safety, as from shades of past lives and temporary Army service, she'd eventually hustle ahead of Bender.

She'd reach the bridge first, Bender soon on board. Several checks of buttons to prepare for launch, not that Bender seemed inclined to be thankful. As she called for affirmations he'd tap his foot quicker, hopes to get off this planet toot suite.

The moment she opened her mouth about Fry, was when her vision cut to darkness, a solid metal fist the culprit…

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The rest quite a blur, but soon had her scream and thump things within reach, everybody trying to duck and dodge such blows.

"Sweet Doritos of Ocho Rios, 'de hell is wrong wid yuh?!"

Hermes' yell as her colleagues stared across, just as they did virtually every day whenever she'd get startled from a roundtable slump. For all her professional creeds of "You gotta do what you gotta do," seemed this particular day left her in no mood to care.

" _If I couldn't save my own friends, why do I deserve this Captaincy? Probably do, not like there's any work…"_

To the bureaucrat shuffling papers and slides of how they plummeted, only a stare to wither souls before she cocooned back inside. Muffles to force a lean forward, including that of her new co-pilot, full-time intern, Amy Wong.

"Gleesh Leela, at least when we had who? _You mean…"_

" _Was nothing!_ "

A complete lie of late; proven an insidious year from that incident to this anniversary. Twice the meetings, half the deliveries so they kept saying, and survival prospects to grow bleak. Any day she'd be on the streets; she'd already been close enough for her liking.

The co-pilot could only flush red and fumble against her catalogue pages, while the company doctor clacked his claws and crooned an opinion.

"You ALL still have Zoidberg… If we get complete bupkis, you'll have my dumpster and empty cans. That's a guaranteed promise."

A misguided kindness, one to earn him quite the pursed lips from the Captain.

"Zoidberg, I'd sooner have our 'bupkis', over a single minute of your friendship."

"Awwww…"

Everyone to then wince for the cracking echoes of bones around the conference room. Cracks to belong to their big boss; owner, founder and CEO Hubert J. Farnsworth, who even for living far longer than all had literal rights to, had stood with a youthful fervour circling in his eyes.

He knew of his shares trading for pennies, of commissions rare if not dead, of holding all these meetings… Even so, he chose to blast his underlings instead, the rant to dither and devolve of how they weren't getting out there. Argued of them wasting time & money, spoke of demands as the Captain began to clench. Veins to pulse and throb, to soon launch her knee into the table.

Superior almost had a cardiac attack, as she stood and scowled his way:

"Are you friggin' kidding me?! Speak for yourself, you senile twit! I just can't believe—j"

"Leela, dat's no way to address the Professor!"

The little light left in her eye to blaze aflame, tiredness all but gone as she gripped her head, gave a great huff, and glared right through her boss's spectacles…

"For the hundredth time, how can we get packages delivered when there AREN'T any?! Why would anyone bother with us, when your stupid inventions take priority over our work? Hell, how my ship hasn't gone in flames yet, it's a twisted—"

"Hu-whaa? I don't recall anyone having problems."

"I get the age Professor, but are you that dense? How 'bout my logs every month, huh? I've stacked them higher than your boiled monster egg, and you've done not a God-damn thing about them!"

First facing her like he knew, Farnsworth only shrugged his shoulders and stared towards his starship. One would've imagined that since it had been his ultimate front, he'd have taken better care of his empire, yet it seemed he found it productive to let the accused stew in her fury.

For all the decades of failures; dog make-up, time machines and one-off jokes, perhaps he too had long given up. An ambitious project to gather dust, still tarped over in the lab.

Leela's palms would meet her face, before she waved them in front. First time they saw her do so.

"I give it my all, and for what? Thanks to Methuselah all we've done is waste away, circle the black hole where all businesses go. So sick, so tired, so afraid of walking by, thinking I'll find this place forsaken…"

"Perhaps a squirt of my empathy, Leela?" Another 'kindness' the crab hoped was genuine.

"I… have had… ENOUGH!"

Seizing her lime-green jacket & handbag, she stomped for the lobby and let her shout resonate among the table. Once noticed how she juggled hero duties and delivery work like a champion, but even for the coldest heart in a fifty-mile radius, even Hermes knew serious problems when he saw them.

"Okay den, that concludes our end-of-day bidness. See yuh all tomorrow, bright and early… _All Gods willing._ "

Tried to rush out, but stopped as Zoidberg clacked his claws after him, hoping he'd lend his ears.

"Hermes, my friend! I'm normally not one to complain, but I haven't eaten in two weeks… Nobody's been tossing food in my dumpster anymore!"

"We're not friends, yuh mouldy Rangoon, so go cram it wid' cranberry jam!"

The wretched blubbers to begin, tears to fall… "I wish I could!"

A pleasure of gradually fewer fulfilled, and his malignant smirk as that green suit soon disappeared. The mooching was one thing, but for all those other crimes, most of more bodily natures, he'd have sent Zoidberg Sunward had he the chance. Deep-roasted crab, and one problem of several taken care of.

Could never understand—no-one could—the reasons why his boss wanted him around…

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 _"Gotta do what you gotta do, they said... It's as life should be, they said."_

Her chin tucked into her collarbone, hands buried in her jacket, Leela hadn't the will to care for anything; not those balls of gas above, nor the citizens to shiver for seeing her face. All she'd lost in one single day, an anniversary of reflection as her feet took her anywhere but home.

First to where those three met, as either escaped runaways or as professionals rising to job and creed... A small sniffle before crossing that pub; first time they'd try to blend in, later times to chug beers towards their mateship. For the weird worlds they'd work for, or adventures outside of such, she'd shed a soundless tear in scraping concrete again.

Next, and only cause of free entry that day, the National Head Museum. Tried to get a Vulcan salute from the original & best. A simple question for being found, her answer to come in the old city's ruins, start of several sparks between them. First had to be how she pummelled her backup, to help him escape.

A shiver, big grab of hair, and rush in hopes she'd get home, only to find the Central Park Rocket Rink, and NNY Dumbbell Club.

Fry to reveal himself beyond his boyhood act at work; a man to wait six hours for tickets to dance over the ice, to pump heavy weights with macho grunts and meathead phrases, all in low gravity.

Creases to form in her face as she pounded for home, her little shipwreck of the seas sandwiched between two high-rises. Her standing proof besides herself, that appearances weren't everything.

A burst of speed through the building, several stabs to scan her fingerprint, and then her lean against the front door, gasps for the memories piercing her head. Only way she knew to calm them was music; fondness for the vivid voices and merry melodies as she flexed fingers through her albums.

Always told herself that she only needed the needle to click, that absolutely anything would do…

Course, such wrong answers seized her up; the familiar one, one-two kick drums, subtle bass guitar strums, and sweet synthesisers to return her right to that spot. Every moment of that planned grand finale; night-time strolls, delicious dinner dates, modest chilled wines over a green loveseat…

That same soulful classic only one verse in, before she'd take that call.

To hear those words again, she could only kick the cord out and race for her room, eye salting the carpets all the while. Attempts at calm via the tissues and old magazines, of singles to grace both cover & editorial…

 _"Who am I kidding? They could never replace what I had."_

That rock-bottom reflection to end as she struggled to stay awake, knowing how those memories often had her spring upright, stroking her ponytail against the lack of tears.

Questions always in mind, to turn and toss her about: Could she get Fry back, or anything left of him? Would she find Bender, if he allowed her to? Who was that anonymous voice, to lure them to such doom?

And most critically… How would she reunite them again, given her one last chance?

 _"Our crew is expendable, your package isn't! Was that my fairy-tale finale the whole time?"_

Answer she never knew, but if one had both a guess and the city dialect… They'd say "Welcome to New York, motherfucker."


	2. A Sobering Welcome

Thousands of miles, a thousand bad choices, and almost a thousand years ago, between chapters & lives.

For the young man scraping shoes towards a nameless office, his latest in an ever-growing list of gigs, he knew of the storms of come. Christmas on the horizon; face and feet baked by Sun or pavement until he clocked his pass. Air-con to offer cool relief, but for certain faces & voices, he'd get little else.

"How 'bout that Mayfield… You came late, again. Stop off for takeaway coming here? MOVE IT!"

From those Wednesday heels to that beehived hair, his dirtiest look as he skulked among ancient computers and modern cube farms, ripped back a seat to set up his station. That desk now his stand, between the 'delights' on call and their tax-free payments.

Two calls in to feel his head rip back, a banshee's screeching airstrike of F-bombs as he tried to verify her details. A hassle in of itself, but as the cherry bomb, over Gods-knew-what reasons, HE had to advise her of cancelled finances. No idea why, no clue how to fix it, and no advice from Queen Bee's minimum wage helps.

Kid miles from any foxhole, caught dead in that lady's sights, her best weapons locked n' loaded.

Tornadoes of spit and curses to shred both ears and body apart, as he tried to stammer for calm. Never a worse protocol to follow; those who tried were often taken aside, if only to keep them quitting then and there. Couldn't explain a thing, for none would listen. Couldn't show empathy, for none ever believed them. Couldn't even come to compromise, for clients entitled themselves to more.

Kid knew the rent and bills were overdue, that landlord and provider alike were losing their patience. But as breaths quickened and veins throbbed, as once old memories pounded thoughts of being borne from air, all he could know were the curls, clenches and shakes…

"SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP!"

His peers to bob over his way, the client now radio silent. Cared nothing for either, at that point.

"Oh, I have your attention? Now listen here, you drop-dead bitch. First, I'M the one who knows your address. Second, send your threats after me, and I'll mail their heads to you, BEFORE ripping the tongue out of your neck. And third, I'll have you and yours burnt to the ground, and piss on the ashes. So some scholarly advice, keep your stupid mouth shut… GOT IT?!"

All the months he'd go without, just to bear witness to her hurried breaths…

"Thank you, and have a nice day."

Hung up, logged off, slammed the headset down, and kicked the seat back while stomping away. A casserole of contempt stewed up for any eyes caught, as he snatched his bag and moved to flush his security pass.

No attempt to hush his toxic words, especially once the boss lady stood to block his path. Her red pen in hand, smug look of disdain as she smacked gum in his face. Wasn't just the heels & hair, she loved to lord over her lackeys…

"Where, do you THINK, you're going boy?"

"Out, and you'd be smart to step aside."

"I don't think so! You've still got hours to make up, and you're staying 'till you do."

"How 'bout instead, you blow another board member, you wretched—"

"Foul brat; sounds like you need another write-up. Good timing too, I've been BEGGING to give this some business."

That click to offer a rough clash of heads: "Lady, that the best you got? Then I'll say this but once… Screw your crumbs, shove your shifts, hell with your write-ups, and above everything else, get FUCKED!"

Shoved her aside as everyone fell into a dead hush, only thing they saw being his favourite finger. Green buttons punched, doors to close, and an absolute promise to never return again…

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The would-be 'Town of Tomorrow' as those bigwigs would coin it.

Small suburb of Victoria, the beacon to dream big for local councillors, a sure thing for governors to bet budgets on, a slice of perfection for federal MPs to toast towards, on taxpayer dime. Until they'd sweat bullets, shoot budgets down, and let those ambitions bleed dry, promises exposed as lies.

Left over for those who couldn't leave, just low-paying scrap to compete for—often beyond legal means. Whoever had the 'luxury' would often start late and finish later, if the trains ever got them home. Houses of coal roofs and mud bricks, that any stiff wind could—often did— collapse.

Among those free hostages, the kid to turn his keys, final calls fielded for good. His bag flung into the wall, his body to lay over the bed, his every burst of adrenaline to dissolve.

"All those hours a week, to come back to this rubble? Were golden days now straw what I'd been reduced to?"

More or less the same questions once a day; some seven hundred times for all the tally marks and lack of answers. Growing sick of the splinters prodding his sides, he'd move for the lounge and tune in; was never anything worth flicking through.

Least if he could see or hear through the static; closest to space he'd ever get.

"Shopping channels, 'crossover reality', detergent exclusives, overdose 'tragedies'…"

Commercial free-to-air TV, a classic Twilight Zone episode in living colour. A fifth dimension of sight, sound & mind, borne from man's chasms of fear, molehills of imagination. One so vast and infinite, yet too proud to explore any realms beyond.

This time, sudden moments of clear pictures, that of Family Feud. Third round, double points, top six answers on the board, and the presenter's bright pink jacket to blast through the screen.

"To wear that with such confidence… Takes a better man than I'd ever be."

 **"Complete this word or phrase for me… 'Dead' what?"**

"Easiest question ever. Deadbeat, dead wrong, dead tired, dead to the world…"

Answers rattled off without blinking, the upbeat reveals to leave him sucking lemons. Assurances of ability, but more of simple reality for all that came his way. Lucrative double degrees, high-class awards, scholarships to send him overseas…

Too many graduates to crowd out those doors, after years of academic encouragement. No experience, no job, no hope of getting toes in, and no way to escape that serrated maze…

Perhaps save for one, and he had begun to realise too.

Wild Turkey 101 and two Coke Classics, all broken open by the master bartender of late. Each bottle upon the coffee table, a one-third mix before a stare to the heavens, and making it half-half instead. Old memories again, of toasts to his providers, givers and educators… Heroes all.

Now he'd sit on that couch, swigs longer, swallows deeper, no-one and nothing to toast to.

The first to vanish quick, soon a second to rush down and join that river. A big cry of "Screw it!" for sloshing a third over the table glass, and THEN into his glass. Hardly in his hand, before the hydraulic press began crushing his skull.

Eyes paralysed by the sunshine, no escape from the TV trying to shoot him dead, and no way to shout for help as his body began to shut down. Chokes to catch in his throat, threats of passing out to grow, until a hose of vomit condemned the room.

Bile to soak inside the carpets, splatters to rain over table and couch, and even the drink to spill over. Many moments of misery before the kid tried to move, only to slip and come inches short from painting brain matter over those cedar legs beside him.

His lifetime as his own saboteur finally coming to end, a legacy of pitiful cries and blackout fades. Another job, gone in mere weeks. List of useful skills, a mere sheet of paper. And by every choice or Fates above, no support to pull him out.

The first-class fool, face-down in vomit, farewelled as a cautionary children's tale. Save for a set of invaders in the hours after, creatures who had been convinced otherwise.

Fuzzy and black, no taller than a man's knee, one would crawl and laser through the ducted heating, a babble over some device before being joined by a few comrades. Rancid corpse to drag to a little saucer, parked behind, where they'd somehow stuff him inside.

"Think I'll commission a new vehicle after this… Either that, or I'd better get my cleaning covered."

Not the most comfortable express trip, though at least it didn't take them long. One stop only at Applied Cryogenics, with further drags of the body up elevators and down corridors. Mayfield's body propped up, the door slammed tight, and the timer set before that creature flew off past the horizon.

As suns, moons, civilisations and old worlds flashed past his window, Mayfield had no idea nor dared to imagine the passport he'd get through time and space.

The adventure to begin from needles, swift haymakers, and a flight to his new home's outskirts.

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A horrid taste rolling in his tongue, besides the soil & dirt, to have Mayfield spit, cough and wake up.

Had him look about to not see any carpets or ceilings; dozens of cars to glide, hover and weave about to send him sitting up. Globs of people going through giant tubes, to have him stiffen his spine. TVs where strange old shorts played for rush hour, to have him scream.

Knew now he'd been warped into an outstanding new world, a science-fiction show come to life. Course, the hows, whys and whos would level him flat over those fields, full-blown panic about to set in.

"No no no no no, this can't be happening! Sure as hell this ain't true, breathe a little… I know! I'll just wake myself up, flash out of this nightmare, and be toasty warm in vomit again."

Tried to take in air to calm down, only to gag and retch, return right back to reality.

"Bloody chunder, where'd that pong come from?! And on that note, where and when in the hell am I?"

The where to grow obvious for all the skyward buildings and sidewalks of strangers, but the 'when' was what would wham him in the guts. Guts as crook as Rookwood, and ready to trigger again as he patted his body down, no care for messing himself.

"Least I've my organs and head in one piece, somehow… Okay, I get it; here's my Hell to haver through."

All he could do, as he glimpsed citizens that glared holes in his head, any sneer, gag or shout made quite clear. Words to turtle-shell him, actions to thump his chest, as he'd come to realise his eternal re-education. Never a worse time to flunk classes on big city etiquette…

Particular attention towards his five fingers, as he'd try to merge out and escape this crowd. Timing to sober him to the worst no-no he'd ever commit, disrupting the foot traffic while the stench of landfill steamed off him.

The insults to come thick and fast as a couple of folks shoved him to the gutters, left him to spit bitumen before carrying on. No time to contemplate such assaults, as he struggled up and towards the only places to leave their lights on; a gym, pool lounge, country bar and take-out joint.

Course, like the crowd before, they had no qualms making their demands clear.

"HEY, take your punk ass runnin' already! God forbid you got some exercise."

"Son, Capone'll have you shit teeth if you don't step out, feel me?"

"Damned sumbitch, slopping spew in my spot. You wanna have problems, boy?"

"Take your drunken self out of this establishment, or else I'll call the cops!"

Not a word spoken, yet as lost, smelly and clueless as ever, the kid could only clench teeth, clutch his neck and blink back tears. No matter where he tried, seemed they all wanted to harm over help; last straw was the shopkeeper aiming some fancy weapon at his head.

"Well, the fuck you waiting for? Christmas?"

"Ah, you're not worth the charge, never mind the twenty-five year minimum. Now count your blessings and beat it."

"Got none, have two of mine instead."

His favourite fingers until he disappeared, unsure of where else to go… All those films, songs and games, and this hadn't been the New York he knew.

 _"Who do these people think I am? Even for all my mess, do they see the drifter & tourist before them? Wasn't like I asked to grab this American Dream, to sail the seas past Ellis Island…"_

Several hours to scar his heart, several miles for cramps and blisters to bow his knees. Before him a splintered canoe sandwiched between cruise ships, he in the shipwrecks of alleyways and empty basketball courts. Only one truth to become clear, as he fell to his front.

Nowhere to go, no-one to turn to, no way he knew what to do. All in a time and city so unfamiliar, and all without Big Macs and sodas to figure it out.

Scalding hot hemlock to have his chest and windpipe gasp for air, entire life to flash in his eyes. Fallout of past choices to hit him here, to have him grab fistfuls of his face. From his very pits, a sudden scream to rip his chords open, bellow to echo around the block and reach the spires.

Temptations to tear this new world apart; could've given the clothes off his back for family to be here. Curled up on concrete and crying tears; had they known, they'd have swam the ocean to stop him drowning.

But it seemed the Fates and cosmic threads had other ideas; instead of shallow holes and shovelfuls of lime, all he got were audible shows of muttering, the clicks of several lights, and a middle-floor window shove…

"Whoever you are, shut the HELL up!"

Almost the same words, but not his voice to speak them. Feminine, to have him scramble feet and suffer whiplash in scanning for the source… Only to find it pounding towards him.

A lady his age now face-to-face, no delicate flower in that light-lilac sleepwear. Evidence of disturbed nights all over; bared teeth, cradled fists, murder wrote in that eye to have him shrivel.

Reasons now obvious, for having no welcoming party in mind.

"Son-of-a-bitch… Who in every God's name are you, what's with the eye, and WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?!"

"None of your concern, none of your business, and you woke us all up," she'd hiss, inching closer: "But it'll be over soon, just give me five minutes…"

Didn't even wait five seconds before two stinging fists cracked him on the nose.

Eyes to stream as he scrambled back; nerves on fire as he tried to dodge, block and lean away. Knew and feared for seeing her advance, that he had nowhere else to go.

Just his luck that she'd predict and punish—in bored ease—his every move, and grow pissed for him trying to resist. The ultimate lose-lose, when she growled, seized his head and fired a cannonballing knee clean into his jaw.

Such force to flash him to childhood, to steel-framed trampolines and split skulls. Seemed his years of letting go had saved his life, the strike breaking his jaw and dropping him to the sidewalk instead.

Knew he couldn't talk now, so settled for grovelling, his head bowed right down.

"Left your cries for mercy late, little boy… Now take down these life lessons."

Both her hands to grip his neck, stand him up and slam his body into the apartment, no other hope than to be held still and have those fists knead his face. Near-dead weight to drop back on concrete, face soon full of fresh cuts and swells.

Though she seemed content at first, it was looking over her sleepwear that her stare grew sourer than what he'd shared with her.

"You gotta be… Thanks a lot, idiot! Now I gotta hand-wash these, Lord forbid I need some sleep."

No reply as he pushed up, fell about and eventually got to his knees, unable to see her grin.

"But your five minutes are up, so here's my complimentary welcome for you."

A signature roundhouse kick straight for his head, to splay him out like a sandbag. As he saw more stars than the skies above, she left for inside, turning with twisted lips by the open door.

"Welcome to New New York… deadbeat."


	3. A Need for Solitude

If either man or machine valued the summer to come, they wouldn't cross Leela's path this morning.

All they needed to see was her stagger, one to bump about the place as she alarmed the domed tube on her counter.

"Coffee, piping hot, black… NOW."

"Miss Leela, may I suggest you forgo that in exchange for rest? Coffee will only do so much for you."

"It'll save you more than me, Replicator… A two-storey drop for starters. Must I repeat myself?"

Could've made the neighbours check the thermostat, as the machine mumbled and beamed in her coffee. The Captain to sip in silence, her tongue sizzling yet numb.

"All these years I've wrung my hands for Planet Express… Why did I even bother?"

Each morning of late the same question, her answer to slam down the mug and let her lips curl. Her ponytail to come down, her shower call of "On!" as she massaged it down her back.

Whole morning if she could; had the old Leela heard her, she would've slapped the spit from her lips. Where she grew up, nothing but nature to make her see the sweet side of life.

So she'd lather her lavender shampoos, smooth those foreman gloves over skin, soap down summer orchards over her body. A glance at her elbow talons, little growls as she took a razor to them both.

"Of all times to have these, why not last night... Oh Lord Leela, already messed him up enough."

Prison bars, or going Sunward… Knew she already had her life sentence, as she'd soon grab her jacket, sling her handbag over, and start for the street.

Only an eye-roll and headshake for encountering the stranger again, thoughts to move along before she doubled back. Nose pinched and bile rising in her throat, as her eye travelled from head to toe.

Monk-like haircut, coarse scrub across his face, those freaky five fingers, the concrete sack of a gut… Virtually all of him in ruin; forsaken by her hand, or no doubt defiled by his. Stand-outs in clothes to remind her of old friends, wasn't the only time she would scream as he did.

Only a subdued sigh as she 'borrowed' a neighbour's butt bucket, dumping the smokes to fill it with ice-cold tap water. Down the stairs, out the door, and some turns to and from him, before she dumped the contents and drenched the kid.

He'd bolt up and try to gasp for breath, only for the broken nose and jaw to have him fight for air. The briefest stare to imagine her as a voodoo doll, before he'd double over again.

"Rise and shine deadbeat, it's Friday morning. You won't have such precious hours forever."

Only groans to escape his mouth; who knew what opinion he might've shared.

"Hello, must I beat your ears too? Am I talking to myself here?"

Garbled nonsense, no way she'd ever make that out.

"Sit up and speak up!"

Further garbles, as he made a point to clarify his problem. Seemed she didn't care, either way.

"Whatever. Let me ask you, pal... Do you know why you're here?"

Saw him sign a cross over his chest; hand gesture to convince her of sarcasm. Tried to look away, his face covered, body beaten, and mind in a complete slump.

"You're here nursing yourself because you're the jerk who woke us up. But I believe in fairness, so fresh from our city springs, consider that our personal wake-up call for YOU."

His eyes could've set worlds ablaze, the disbelief to have him struggle gamely, stand and lean against the apartment. Figured his 'wedge-tailed eagles' could speak better than he, as he turned his back and trudged off.

For those in her face, Leela grew tempted to tail him, had twisted fantasies of tearing those things off. Soon thought that the satisfaction wouldn't be enough; was a dead man walking anyway.

Still, whoever caught her eye could feel their souls erode, as she made her way to work. In better times the city knew her name & deeds, were aware of the prime she could and did reach. Course, such fine form was nowhere to be seen, as her stomps slowed to shambles.

"Just great, I gotta stop off again already…"

Only one place for the 'get-serious' fix, one to often have queues out the door and around the block… Guadalajara Brown Drip.

An inaudible mouthing as she slipped in, demanded her drink and stood aside, watching the baristas who brewed, steamed and poured the nation's unofficial bloodstream.

A ruthless pace, every single day, to meet the fix of hundreds of haggard workers, including herself.

"Pick up for octuple espresso!"

The only order fit for a Captain, the crude-oil coffee to suck down and pull faces for. Prayers upon the spirits of Mexico, as she'd round a few blocks to find HQ come into her sight.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

All eyes kept on one; the empty-eyed, murder-grinning 'Ma'am' to arrive into roll call. Could see the headlines now, hoped they wouldn't be the first victims of that Slashford Killer.

Meanwhile the riot act would thread between the Captain's ears; cared nothing of that nor their eyes or shivers as she left right for the lounge. Middle of the meeting no less, a serene skip for show as she dared her bosses to fire her.

Garbage TV tour of her own; two shouting sales heads to advertise 'camouflage briefs', and a Mittens the Kitten segment to leave one reminiscing for such buffets.

"They didn't call me 'The Annihilator' for nothing… BWA HA HA HA!"

Extreme Toddler Wrestling; Hardcore match between 'Babyface' Bob—gun of a grappler—and 'Kutey' Kid Krush—widdle guy, wide power. Her gut to rumble as she switched; trust the owner to try making bucks that way.

Re-runs of her friends' shows to have her switch off, sudden flickers of panic as she thought of the attic. Where the successful inventions resided, including the one device to analyse, determine and reproduce smells over universal distances. Questions for the Smell-O-Scope in anxious times…

Even a year beyond their final mission, she could remember an old friend to overpower Zoidberg's stench on occasion. Some unspeakable force inside, to stop her from tossing him, shampoo and a soap bar into the Hudson, contamination be damned.

But for all Farnsworth's ways to deny her chances, relish calling her a "depressed lunatic", she wasn't sure it'd help these days. Only the Widow's Walk to shuffle for, a roof and spire to climb and sit beside, watch the twinkle of New Jersey beyond the river.

According to her, proof that the worst places could look beautiful from a distance. For the old memories to sprout, she'd once say the same of Fry's showcases of love, especially when he'd lay down his life to save hers.

No hesitation the last time, yet last year would be once too often. A fairy-tale denied, as her sickness of sunrise views had her seek out Amy. No meeting to unglue her eyes from her catalogue, just her Captain as she took a seat.

"Hey Amy, you got a minute? Just, I don't know, had been thinking."

"Sure I do, but gotta say, your smile screeped out today. Figure you'd need much more, right Ma'am?"

"You're Sherlock's second coming, aren't you? All the crap I've had to wade through, only now for some screaming jackass to enter my life. I offer him his chance to sleep, and that rude mother—"

History was written by the winners; that was one of the rare times she did.

"Shwhoa, cool it Captain! They're no-one to worry about now. Though given your luck, I halfway expected you to axe him out."

"Please girl, I actually have standards… Not like some classless Chinese skanks I know."

"Standards, spleh! How do you know what you want in the game, when you're too afraid to play? How do you think I met my would be fonfon ru, huh? You'll die alone before you find perfection, trust me on that."

"I'm an eyeball, dummy. You DAMN well know that you'd get all the men, whether they knew your name or not. And even if by chance I hooked someone, you think I'd ever replace that kind of love?"

Always time for a tit-for-tat, for those to put the 'friend' in friendly rivalry. In understanding, Amy could only offer a hug, a pat of shoulder before returning to the sales.

Had Leela stand and start off for Zoidberg's office, shaking her head yet thinking it'd do in a pinch. Her own AND Hermes' reasons for hating him, as she heard the sounds of shuffled paperwork with the knock upon his door.

His yell of "I'll be a minute!" as he sprinkled stolen salt n' pepper canisters over them. Just about to get snacking, until Leela snatched them right out of his claws.

"Awwww…"

"You wanna eat paper, buy a ream. Don't eat our damned medicals."

"Could you lend the money, little miss upbeat? So, what brings you to deny my lunch? "

Her twirl of a ring finger, quite the snarl as she leaned against a counter.

"On what planet would I be upbeat, idiot? I'll just give you the straight talk; far as my issues go, I—"

"Whoa whoa, slow down Leela! I'm a doctor, not a psychologist, and even that first one's—"

"Just shut up & listen, okay? Ever since last year, I've used fake faces, excess caffeine, or early clock-offs to hide the truth from everyone. I'm on the verge of mental breakdown; longer I stay, shorter my fuse, and less I hope to remain Captain."

"I see, that diagnosis sounds quite certain… Ah, of course! I know the bother, it's barnacle rot. And as a doctor and expert on medical medicine, you just gotta learn to accept it. It's incurable, I'm afraid."

Almost wished she could wind her hand back and whack him, but knew that skull would damage her more than him.

"For the love of… Okay you dumb crab, here's the clear and simple version. I want to keep my crew safe in case I do lose my mind. Now do you have ANY advice on what I can do, or don't you?"

Ignored as Zoidberg called Amy for his next patient, earning a tide of Cantonese cursing for the trouble, Leela quivered as she stood and stalked Zoidberg, her advance to scuttle him into the wall.

"I'm in no mood to be screwed around… Do so again you buttered lobster bisque, and so help me I'll break out the recipe book!"

"Somebody, help, I'm being threatened!"

A large squirt of sticky black ink, self-defence as he clacked his claws right out of his office.

"Whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop, nyeh eh eh!"

A seismic rise in heartrate, skin boiling hotter than the Sun, for the sewer-scented ooze to splatter over her. Small growls to precede a seizure of her head, the thundering roars as she crucified the office often useless in his claws. There went his papers, his chairs, his so-called privacy screen, the equipment…

"Gods damn it, I'm done!"

Was it an illustration of her life, was it karma, was it the Fates playing games? Whatever the case, her mind would burn with temptations to do a 'Johnny Paycheck'—affordable or not. Took quite a deal before she figured such conclusions to be rash; all she'd need was another good shower and walk, and she'd be ready to fly again.

Cookieville had grounded her often in the growing years, but even for her class of orphans, it also reminded her of how far she came since being abandoned there. Sweet revenge always, to remember the way she'd conquer that prison.

A same or similar opinion that her old friends used to share…

Noon or so once she tore the treacle-like gunk off her face, before taking to the lockers, down the lobby and right out the door. Not a peep from anybody, especially Zoidberg who made himself scarce.

All those great stories and triumphs to reflect on, all the meditation in her old bedroom, all the curses she could offer those kids, staring at those rotted photos…

A heap of hours in that long-condemned home, her own personal sanctum away from it all.


	4. A Dead Man Born Again

Knowing how easy he had it, didn't always have the whole 'screw you, this and it' attitude.

Never thought to plan for that one 'bad day', in fact, thought he'd never need to compared to the modern majority, and daresay his first countrymen especially.

These days the former could've been held in higher regard; they'd never lose the traits to define their taking wasteland and ragtag tribes to create their thriving societies. Scores of millenniums on top of the pyramid, until the First Fleet of 1788 would outclass, and outgun them, on their own shores.

Diligence, while they built themselves from scratch; toughness, in thousand-mile treks to prove certain points; tenacity, for the 1960s Freedom Rides, and optimism, during never-ending climbs through worlds of sport, politics & artistry.

Traits the kid would've traded his entire degree and world for, just to taste such success.

 _"Least the migraine's stopped me from dropping, be 'game over' if I did."_

Couldn't see nor pay any mind to the wolves he'd bump into; arching backs and growling as he passed. Close to an hour before his feet found a beaten path, dirt and dust to kick until an old statehouse blurred in his view. A potential squatter's paradise, and the perfect analogy for his life of late…

Abandoned, beat to hell, condemned and left to die.

The house to close itself off; broken dust-caked windows, door shut tight, whiffs of air to still stagger his senses. Between windows and padlocks, only had strength to slide down the stonework, ready to contemplate his Fates.

Some voices to circle his head and point out a grove of dead trees, a shed shaded within. Steps to struggle forward, sledgehammer to await him, but the front door not budging an inch as he took his best swing.

Garbles of defeat for every small tap and kick, any fury and momentum soon overwhelmed by injury. Yet once he could peek inside the holes he chipped, he soon dared to defy the devils. A tight squeeze on that handle, head and feet to burn for new declarations, and minutes felt as months for the grains to fray and splinter apart.

Finally squeezed through sledge and all, though he almost begged to choose anywhere else.

Shoes like roots to pull up off the floor, the owls to turn their heads and have him shake, the walls to mutate in real time, and the smells to have him dry heave, thankful to be sapped and starved.

 _"Bleugh, oh Gods… Sweet by name, rotten anything else. Better than cold concrete though."_

Water and bile to drip as in looking about, he'd find ten little beds, two row line-up the only thing he'd call neat. A strip and toss to let splatters of sick bounce off the walls, first chance to figure his life out over some shut-eye.

But last night to turn his lights out; toss & turn, toss & turn, toss & turn… _"Just let me bleed out already! Least I could disappoint the clan in the afterlife…"_

"Dear Gods, you're a greater tragedy than even we feared."

That voice to return among the slurs and mumbles; blocked-out baby babble now chasm-pitched. Royalty had they dared him to guess, but he'd no way to summon the strength.

"You must be Thomas Mayfield, I presume?"

Not being alone aside, the realisation of hearing his name had him bulge eyes and palm his head. Thing no taller than his knee—eyestalk & all—and yet, a presence to shiver bones in that teal jumpsuit. Scratches on a thumb-sized clipboard, quite the scrutiny of page before he got ticked off.

"Okay, see we've problems here… Hold still, I'll transmit your thoughts to speech, so we can communicate."

Produced from under a pillow, a pointed trumpet-like cone that he'd pound into the brain. Mayfield's scream to shame a banshee, thinking the haemorrhage would finish him off, yet it'd stiffen his spine to hear questions burst forth.

"What'd you do that for? Who on Earth on you? The hell is happening now? Where in every God's name am I? How did you know my name? And—"

"We're quite an ancient and powerful race, we know lots of things. And in due time, you'll—"

"No, no, screw that nonsense squirt! For all the shit Sundaes I've sucked down over the years, this just tops the lot of 'em. Came covered in vomit, walked on bleeds and cramps only to be exiled, and been dry and empty all the while. So start explaining, or get slapped outta here."

Creature's glance to nothing in particular, their silent babble before locking eyes again.

"Oh very well then. I am Lord Nibbler of Eternium, current Ambassador to Earth on their behalf. You were chosen to participate in our latest venture, a series of experiments—"

"I'm sorry, experiments? You mean I came here just to test some ridiculous theory of yours?"

"More or less, more specifically, 'Project F.T.T.P.' Where we scrounged humans of past centuries—gave them brand new settings—to determine if they could survive & thrive, or fail now as they did then.

"So it WAS you bastards to bring me here? No dollar to my name, no clothes to my back, and no telling when I'll bleed out?"

"Though we do feel responsible for, well, this mess, you frankly bore the brunt of what brought you to our attention."

"Is that so? Okay, aside from your well-deserved 'screw you', was it too much to get a heads-up when I first arrived? All your powers and—"

"You GOT one! We feared your drinking would take you before we did; took us quite the clean-up to get you here. Could've saved yourself a great deal had you bothered to look; hid a letter and key not five feet from where you laid."

"Are you a friggin' moron, Your Furriness? You think I'd notice some dug hole against this entire Gods-damned city? Is that what you're tellin' me?"

"My, I shudder for your intellect then. Must you test me, when I had you frozen in a tube for almost a thousand years?"

Kid knew he didn't belong for the flying cars, people tubes and vicious aliens, but to hear how he got here, could feel a sudden wind seize his chest. For this creature to commit this act, and in such confidence…

"Hell you want from me? To dress in drag and dance the Macarena?"

"Just the understanding that we can't help you beyond the basics, nor send you back. So long as that's clear, it's your life and your pleasures."

"Are you for fuckin' real?! Sure I looked to hit the streets, but THIS is what you consider as a world of favours for me? Swear you'd better take off, or else I'll kill you!"

"You'd be welcome to try. Maybe a little gratitude would help you instead."

"Shove it where the sun don't shine, freak… I didn't ask nor want to be saved, not after what I lost."

"Be that as it may, as Supreme Fuzzler in charge, I cannot start you empty-handed. Took the liberty of delivering your care package; check under the bed, if you'll please."

"Explains the scraping of earlier, but you really think that a care package's enough? Do I look like I graduated summa-cum-laude in stupid, or something?"

"Don't make me answer that."

Curses of name and sharp rebukes, as Mayfield clicked the locks to find that the creature meant well after all. Fresh outfits, a cell phone, a book of contacts, and currency featuring monsters, brain-headed men, and classic Benjamins.

Kicked himself for the latter's severe diet in value, yet for the quick math, he had a grand to get him on his feet.

"Huh, s'pose you're searching for success after all… Okay, what now?"

"Follow your book to check off those concerns, and as for opportunities, leave that to me. Good luck young one, I've faith that you'll be fine here… Can't possibly do worse, to be frank."

"Yeah yeah, now piss off would ya? I'm sick to death of hearing you."

"I imagine you're going to, whether you like it or not."

Promised threats before the eyestalk blasted him in the eyes, and the creature soon vanished. Kid's blink and squirm as he slid on his new clothes, dialled the cab company, and collected his cash. Shakes and rumbles to have him try diving under the bed, only for the loud honks to reassure him.

A stumble down the steps, a shiver towards that hole of entry, and a scurry inside, only a face-to-face needed to end the cabbie's prying.

"Whoa okay, I've got the picture bub… Doctor's clinic it is, and don't ask."

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

No sense of relief for the bumps, rocks and jolts, only the magic words of "That'll be 15 bucks, pal."

Handing over a Blob he'd be surprised for the walk inside; even for being soaked he'd enjoy such golden silence, from grabbing the number to taking a seat.

 _"The hell are they planning? Fresh clothes can't strip that Al-Qaeda flag off my back, can they?"_

No time to suspect a thing as his name came over the PA, as other patients hurried him along. Had been sure of some mistake; his doctors took ten times as long for a tenth of the clients. All he'd hear were strange hums for several seconds, a small groan, and a sudden rummage through a cupboard.

Sure knew of the syringes though; lip-pressed screams to earn no sympathy, as two got plunged into his forearms.

"Oh quit complaining! Fifteen minutes or less, and you'll be fine. Next patient!"

The kid looked fit to protest as he got ushered out, no words given when the door hit his face.

 _"Uh, thanks arsehole. Bloody waste of time and money, I'm sure."_

Whirs, buzzes and whees to rev inside his body, and if seizing it in cries of "SHUT UP!" didn't do it, then it'd be racing for the bathroom to square all eyes on him. The scenario to have him hyper-ventilate, shrink inside himself, before his world changed again.

Those migraines now light as air. All the bloody faults and mountain bumps to vanish into flatland. The fresh scents of citrus and linen to bless his nose. Straight to the mirror, to slap his cheek, twiddle the jaw, and pace the floor without so much as a spasm.

Haunted and lacking words, for the stranger to stare back at him.

 _"_ Swear I'm just imagining things… Wait a sec, I spoke? The FUCK is happening?!

"Hey buddy, quit the one-man show! We've enough freaks under us, we don't need one up here."

The kid to flush red as she shuffled out, struggled to meet eyes: _"Sorry mate, sure didn't intend it."_

Mutters and pinched noses as he moved for the line, one to flow fast as patients paid their fees. When he stood in front and watched the receptionist's every move, he could've made dominoes of the entire queue. There'd go his two Brainos; scanned, combined, then made a Lincoln in seconds.

If that didn't leave him gripping the desk, it was hearing its Gettysburg Address to leave indents.

"No need to get so worked up, it's just your change…"

"Oh sure, totally natural to hear money TALK… Where's the cash registers and card machines?"

"Look kid, I'm not paid to give history lessons, okay? Now quit holding us up."

Curious of this civility, at least compared to before, he heeded her words and wandered off. Alien Overlord & Taylor soon in sight; department store to not just remind him of home, but spark a series of ideas to ready himself.

First some fuel via a top-floor McPluto's, and a chance to observe the working man's meal. Lesson learned to let them order ahead, as he'd take time to decide on two large Fat Dwarf combos with water, plus a large Sundae on top.

His eyes lit up by golden fry buckets, water kegs, and an Everest of hot fudge and soft serve, he was just going for a seat when a patron barged into his space. Obesity pamphlets in her hands, had almost slapped the tray sideways.

"You absolute pig! That could feed an entire nation, the hell's the matter—"

"Then fuck off and feed them love! Not my business, not your concern, end of story."

Earned quite the glare, yet all he'd hear after were the bites, chomps, munches and slurps. Quite the glory to hear the belch, pat the bulge above the belt, and slide down the booth.

 _"Oh man! Didn't think desperation could taste that good… Sure as shit don't think I'll cook anymore."_

As much time as needed to finish it all, before an hour of searching, head-bowed asking, and spending on some hygiene products & backpacks. Quick bathroom break and scratch of hairs, soon a move for the soul-man sweeping hairs. Still seemed as youthful as ever, despite the grey afro.

"Sit down partner, come on in! How can I freshen you up today?"

"Well you've sure got some work, mate… Clean my beard and whiskers well, shave this awful mop off, and neaten my neck too, please."

"A buzzcut and beard trim, son? I love a good-and-simple."

"Thanks. Hey, do I smell off in any way?"

"You've got a whiff, won't lie. But it's a scent I'd bottle compared to the worst I've served. Anyway take a seat, get comfy… How's about a story?"

To hear of how he held court in a world of anti-grav 'pumps' and self-dancing suits, the King of 2970s disco, was to both excite and settle the kid. Night fever to reinvigorate those old worlds, as the towel cuddled his face, the warm water washed his scalp, and the eyes started to shut…

"And you're all done, my man!"

"Good grief, already? Damn, was enjoying that."

A tear shed for ending his first man-to-man, but soon had to smile for finding the man he hadn't known in centuries. Towards the barber, a pat of his chest.

"You've no idea what this means… Thank you, so much. What do I owe ya?"

"A Ben and Abe for a cut, but this one's on me."

"You deserve more for the welcome & story"—he'd rummage in a pocket—"so here, have a Blob on me."

His brightest grin soon shadowed as he stepped outside; seemed he found that gym again. Each split-second stare to have him flinch, and for memories still fresh, a clench of fists for that same trainer to hawk him.

"Look pal, I'm just saying, you'd get much more from our—"

Couldn't hold it in: "Don't you DARE upsell me, arsehole! You think I forgot how you spat me out into the street? You reckon I'd give a damn about what you're offering?"

"Wait a minute, that was you? Look, wasn't like you didn't have a home to take a shower and shave."

"If I actually had such an option, you think I wouldn't use it? Please excuse my coming across rude, but only a dumb-arse would say that."

Stares to follow, the trainer darting eyes: _"Don't make a scene, damn you! I get it, you've made efforts, maybe we can come to terms… How 'bout our basic membership; a year down, and you'll get—"_

"Better idea, to help us both. I'll pay for a casual, then I'll go away for good."

"Fine, but if you show your face again, you won't have one left. We clear?"

"We are, and don't think I don't appreciate this, alright?"

Even for subtle snickers either side of him, Mayfield hadn't known a higher gratitude for soaping, scouring, scrubbing and flossing that old life away. A fire to stoke inside his soul, to grab a shovel from the shed and start digging.

Inside and out to lay those ruined clothes to rest, to his knees as he gave some burial rites.

"May I reap a fine future, from these seeds I plant today. May old problems never find me, wherever this journey shall lead. May I come back a better man, against the life left behind."

Only a stretch and yawn afterward, as he'd head inside in hopes of earning his first proper rest in years.


	5. Cleaning the Slate

Such hallowed halls she once called home, where she'd build the very foundations of her future.

Yet to hear the dirt, gravel and stone crunch underfoot, Leela had to pull her ponytail for coming back. So many times she'd done so, and only so many excuses left, including the signs of trespass all over the door. Or thoughts that quite the rot had set in since last week.

"Others called it Cookieville, I called it Hell… Of all places to find solitude."

There'd be the class photos, moulded to the wall… Always left behind in Cootietown, often invaded to be mocked or howled over, and never a bigger outcast in a house full of them. The old court where she'd compete in barefoot sliding; fond juts of lips to remember the lunch grease.

The rumours to come that she'd quash inside, moving for the Wall of Fame up on stage. Only honouree of her group despite the decades of low standards, as county-certified, adventure-applied Space Captain. Her salute as she'd step off, familiar sign soon in sight.

"And here's Building D, the seventh level of it all. To think I almost hung 'round forever."

She'd droop against her doorframe before ruffling some sheets, the top bunk especially. All the lunch hours here in the loneliest of lone escapes, and all the all-nighters where she'd study in silence, no offers of help nor support… almost.

Seeing the broken toilet now, she thought of that silent force to lurk within. Old tin box once full of choc-chip cookies, treats for each time Cookieville made to crumble her. Same force to Gods forbid save her, from the worst thoughts of all…

At her desk a chance to sit still, her knees in her chin as she no longer stared at the little girl trapped by monsters. Woman she worked so hard to be now staring back; had her roar skyward for conquering such a life.

Her reassurances good as over, and quite content to cut it there, until a voice broke out:

 **"Oy, shut the hell up! I gotta bust heads to get any sleep 'round here?"**

"Of course there's a squatter… I knew I shouldn't have taken the doors and trails for granted."

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 _"Just let them try, to steal my hard-won land. Swear I'll cave their head in no matter who._ "

Mayfield's sledge grip firm against those thumping steps, a vowing stare & stance that personally begged the intruder to come his way. Vows to lose in a virtual instant, soon as he spotted the one to stare back.

His scream to wake the dead, as he fell head-over-arse courtesy of a loose board. Cared not for almost smashing his skull, as he scurried and scrambled to hide. Quite the show, before realising he could only stand his ground.

"Send me to Hay, Hell & Booligal… Get the fuck away, or I swear I'll—"

"What, where & who? I don't even know you pal, but if you think your threats are gonna fly then—"

"I know YOU, and we are NOT pals."

Her advance to further, as his grip could've created splinters. Had defied her once by accident, and wasn't sure of a second time when he backed into the wall.

"Now listen sport. I'm not here to harm a thing, but don't give me a reason either."

"Bullshit you aren't! I'm a nobody, there's no witnesses, and you need your private time… Just finish me!"

"Wait wait wait… Did you say what I—are you hearing yourself?"

"You've got twice the ears as you do eyes, so use them. Think I don't remember your fists in my face? We both know what you're capable of."

Only wide shrugs and wild gestures: "For the last time, you crazy moron… I. DON'T. KNOW. YOU!"

"Maybe you know THIS"—he flashed his middle—"then. That clear matters up?"

Now her turn to stumble back: "Okay, time-out, whoa. Hell outta here, you're the same deadbeat I woke this morning?"

"Deadbeat, am I? All the reason to beat me dead, yeah? So come on, chop-chop, send me where I should be already."

Her closed eye to consider all the bluffers, runners, panickers and suicidal to come her way. Years of counselling behind her, and for such experience, maybe his situation had been similar.

"Listen, I don't know how you got here, but I could call some colleagues at my old job, or—"

"None of your business, none of your concern, and don't bother. After last night, everyone—ESPECIALLY you—can kiss the crater I call my arse-crack."

Her nose to steam and eye to twitch, but only for moments until she crossed arms and stared him down.

"Okay, can the stupid act and listen to yourself. If I wanted you dead, do you think we'd be having this conversation?"

"Oh gee golly gosh, I feel so assured now… So as I understand it, what you did last night, to a guy with no clue, hope or help, came from compassion? Now I know I don't—"

"Speak for yourself. Your words that you're nobody special, so I'd suggest you quit your entitled whining."

Could only froth a filthy lather, a finger of death from an adjusted grip.

"Did you even bother to ask? All I wanted was a shower, or food & drink, or clean clothes, or Gods forbid some advice. Whole night I got shouted down, then you capped it by smacking me down. And you dare speak of entitlement, from that bedroom above me? FUCK you!"

"You're about to cross my line, kid. I am NOT the type to be talked to about privilege, got it?"

"When all I had was a scream, you took the 'privilege' to kick my sewer rat arse all over the curb. So, you one-eyed psycho, you won't get such respects from me. Instead, you can go and—"

A sudden lunge with sledge from mere feet away, yet he'd find himself stripped in moments. The cold metal to press against his throat, and a fire roaring in her eye to have him tremble.

"Listen buddy. One of us will walk out, and you know what my fists can do… You still wanna fight?"

"Do what you must, I don't care anymore. You could've put me in a chokehold, you chose to crucify me instead. Least I could've come to understand, for such mercy by comparison.

"A chokehold? Funny, I don't recall learning—"

"You kiddin' me? Wrap your arms round this carotid artery, lock it in tight, you'll snooze a sucker in seconds flat. Wouldn't know much about the technique, but I figure you'll get the gist."

It had her release him, her chin rubbed while she saw him sucking 'fresh' air from outside. Great heaves from the pits of his lungs, before she tapped him over the shoulder.

"So, are you done then?"

"Back off lady, please… Gimme some space, huh?"

A little time to loosen his neck and dust his clothes, to return her gaze. No woman he ever knew; foot size just shy, legs to remind him of ancient columns, her body the hourglass crafted with love, and soon, her eye and hair to loom over.

"You really think I'd have screamed, had I known I'd wake you up?"

"Just surprised you didn't run. Known most others to, sure you know why."

"Cramps and blisters aside, did that option ever cross your mind? Come on Leela."

Her eye to grow wide, hand to grip a bed's end: "Okay wise-guy, how did you know my name?"

"Almost punched your picture for checking it out, but think about it… Twice kicking my arse aside"—a little shrug toward her—"how many other Cyclopes do you know of?"

"Good point, and good that you're all together. Guess you'd prefer to be anywhere else though, huh?"

"Lady, I'd steal every ounce of Fort Knox's gold to get out. You're telling me that ANYONE would volunteer to stay here? To think they house children in here, and paint ME as the—"

"Less drafts and no rent to pay."

A small nod and grip of window, before he popped up: "Wait, YOU lived here? Why come back?"

"A chance to reflect, to remind me of what I've learnt. Short and simple of it, you either help yourself and seize what you want, or be seized for all you had & loved. Guess we can both relate, huh?"

Rolled eyes and shaken head: "Oh please, that scream wasn't for show. After last night, what would you ever understand of my life?"

Her palm to push into his chest, another to wag a finger.

"You still think me to be so lucky, that nothing's ever gone wrong in my life? You'd do well to BACK off, kid."

"Are you always like this? Fine, let's drop it then."

"First good idea you've had. You know kid, you might be more than what met my eye. I'll call a clean slate right now, how 'bout it?"

She held out her hand, to have him rubbing his head: _"Those skills of last night, the means to escape this, surely her experience since… Be a fool to make a foe of that."_

Both hinting at a grin, as the offer was accepted: "Alright, that works for me. So, whose hand did I shake?"

"If you're after my name, it's Thomas Mayfield. For sure the newest no-account numpty of New New York."

"Turanga Leela, both what you know and Head Pilot of Planet Express Delivery Company. And no doubt Cookieville's only true honouree."

"Yeah, I saw that wall as you did. So, delivery work huh? Know of any openings, places to stay, people to meet?"

"Gotta warn that it's no cruise of any kind, but you play your cards right, you might get all three… Interested?"

A hopeful toenail in the door; didn't take Mayfield long to accept for remembering the empty wallets and lost jobs again.

"Alright, it's a deal," she'd pump his hand. "Hell, I'll make time to teach the ropes if you get accepted; much better deal than what most crew members got."

To herself, a way to make amends for beating him into the next millennium.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

'Child' to catch himself tapping knees, as the cab bobbed and bumped them through the hard earth.

Grimaces for celebrity tabloids aside, he knew who he sat aside. A woman who'd apply herself, raise bars, coast for none, and do her due diligence. Every bit his superior, end of story.

The same who still gave him a chance, even for how he came into her life. To prove he could carve his legacy from scratch, for a family now as good as gone.

Quite silent as every thought of apology, gratitude and promise swarmed inside. Some time until he stammered for a side-eye; her attention, or what little he'd merit of it.

"Listen Leela, for my hassles back then and right now, I truly am sorry. Never wished I'd introduce myself that way; to offer me your ladder afterward speaks volumes of you. Not sure how I'd ever pay that back."

Keeping one finger on the page, she closed the magazine and fixed an eye, stern yet warm.

"That's fine, and let me return that apology. Should've known better than to beat the potential out of you, just so used to it working for everyone else."

"No worries. Hey by any chance, you think we'll ever know the answers?"

"I really hope we do. Though to be hopeful's also to be foolish out here."

Mayfield knew too well what she said and meant, his nod and lean across to think on it. Instant mistake, once his palm kept slapping his jaw.

"Anyway cabbie, quick pit-stop at the market please, keep the meter running."

Leela to step out and leave, only minutes before a well-wrapped package sat between them. Mysterious business to have the kid squirm, choke and hold his breath.

The scent of fresh fish, strong enough to drift into nostrils and recall the past once more…

Favourite café, jam donut or two, while his elders enjoyed their coffee & cake. Always that scent to spoil the treat, to annoy him as he ate; was only for them that he'd join in…

"Well, we're here."

He stuttered for taking in those headquarters; giant, domed and pointy red tower, smashed together to an 80s-style lunchbox, and docked beside a river to stretch beyond anything he'd ever seen. Outside his window, a cityscape stood so close, and so out of reach.

 _"Who knows what lies beyond those shadowy borders?"_

Falling several steps behind in processing the surroundings, he almost didn't see Leela go offside to knuckle a dumpster lid, that package in hand as she yelled out and he ran to catch up.

"Listen, even I can't get a key inside. Lucky for us both, I've the ways to allow us in…"

A scratch of beard: _"Must've been what the package was for."_

But before he could ask about the recipient, he heard scuttles tapping inside the metal, found those four spongy, noodly appendages sniffing about. Had him ready to run and to hell with where, for reasons he couldn't put his fingers on.

The alien to move him here was scary enough. The alien to offer this opportunity, much more so.

But judging by what he was seeing and smelling now, this alien would be leagues worse.


	6. Foot in the Door

Could've been a snake charmer in a different life, the way those noses danced to her tune.

"Ohhh, Zoidberg? Got some fresh fish for yooouuuu… Get 'em quick, or I'll carve 'em with chips!"

To see this 'Zoidberg' emerge from the decay, the 'child' could only churn for the smell, squirm for the look, and shiver for those hungry eyes to home in.

 _"Fair dinkum, I think I found Cthulhu's deadbeat cousin."_

"Fish, you say? And you bought them for me? Why, I don't know if I should look."

"Oh, but I insist. Please, go ahead."

A fin to creep into a Mohican style, such enamoured breaths of deep sea delicacies to have the kid tasting lunch. Hoped like heck he didn't hurl; just knew that thing would clean Leela's showcase AND his for where his head laid.

"The tuna, a classic friend in a roll… These night-crawlers, delicious snacks dry and especially juicy, and… wait a minute, do I smell bottlenose dolphin? And it's oozing? Oh, the fresh ones are SO my favourite!"

A childlike clack of claws before it scattered bottles, cardboard and detritus everywhere, as he inclined heads towards the Captain.

"I bless you for this gift, now—"

"Ah ah ah, crab-cake. I'll need a favour from you first. My hopeful crewman and I will need the HQ over the weekend… Think you can arrange that?"

"Forget just the weekend, your Grace... I'll make it so you always have a way in."

From her ways to arouse him came a form of concentrated rage; pulsing eyes, slathers of drool, and a roar to brown one's jeans as he scuttled speedily towards HQ's back end. The kid's hand grabbed, both soon a witness as the crab stabbed his claws inside, and split that metal as if it'd been wet tissue paper.

The two to walk in, side-by-side without struggle, as the kid prayed he'd find a toilet.

Demon to docile in damned record time, Zoidberg would hop for his reward. True to her word Leela would deliver; might've thought it was Christmas to hear him caress, squeal, and chomp down his culinary prize.

Course, he never knew of the incident prior, of what she'd paid back with interest.

Hermes would muse and meditate over his latest forms, that echoing groan to shoot him for the elevator. Kid couldn't say whether Hermes knew, but as he stood behind the culprit in crossed arms, he figured he couldn't care less. That yell to almost scatter fish everywhere, the crab frozen in the middle of a mouthful.

"Use 'de lobby yuh imbecile! That's coming out of your pay!"

The tuna and dolphin buffet to become an anchovy feast, as Leela let loose a cackle to leave the kid's tongue-tip out. Nose to crinkle and cheeks to redden, temptations raging to run his mouth.

 _"Crawled from the dumpster for a worthless feed, and that's how he gets treated?"_

Figured a quip was best; figure he tasted better things than every finger of his.

"Huh, resourceful sort aren't you? Is that how everyone pays favours 'round here?"

"In here and out there, you pick your battles and succeed anyway you can… Advice you'd be wise to remember, kid."

Cruel talk, but soon cast aside as Mayfield's jaw covered his neck. Even for frozen flights, tunnelling taxis, miracle medicines and chatty currencies, it'd be this green behemoth to truly floor him.

"Well, bugger me dead… Do my eyes deceive me, or is that an—?"

"Very good, genius… The hell'd you think I meant by being Head Pilot?" came the snort.

"Uhhh, thought you used space just to avoid air traffic… Y'know, similar to the taxis?"

"Didn't think space as in universe space. Just as a convenience for travelling abroad."

"Oh Lord," she crossed her arms. "Please tell me you're not serious."

"Who are you two? And what are you doing inside my headquarters?"

Seemed the small spat had got the Professor's attention; he'd hover above having been woken from his nap.

"I'm the lady who keeps this roof over your head. Jeez, how many times must I remind you? As for the kid, he's here to fill in for crew. Think you could start him fresh on Monday?"

"What are you fuffing on about?"

"The advertisements you sent out, since…" Her sentence just stopped, leaving Mayfield to shoot a quizzical look.

"Eh-wha? Oh right, now I know! All those applicants, the poor sons-of-bit—but that's not important. Alright Captain, what's he got that the others didn't?"

"Very little, if anything. However, I'll handle getting him up to speed, you just let him do his thing. Fingers crossed that we DON'T have another dud to dump in the abyss… How's that sound?"

"Hmm, he's got the look of the Stupid Ages, and I've never hired them… So why should I extend such a courtesy now?"

A flinch in her face, before steeling herself: "Not like we could do worse, to be frank."

Though neck veins threatened to throb, the kid could only fidget for Farnsworth to mull him over. Seemed he'd wait a while for hearing the snores, but Leela's yell soon rose him with a final shrug.

"I s'pose that's true so"—he shook Mayfield's hand—"welcome aboard young man!"

"Great, cheers for having me."

"So we're clear though, you'll have to prove yourself to become full-time crew… And sometime payroll."

A private-meant yet public-had confession, one that via a tightening grip, didn't please the kid any.

"I never signed up for being stiffed, mate. That's a steaming load I won't—"

"I'm sorry Mayberry, but how do you think we stayed alive all these years?"

"I didn't imagine it'd be THAT bad." Mayfield's face to turn tectonic. "How peachy it must be, to screw others so you can save a few bucks… What kind of show are you running here?"

"The same kind to call the cops, have 'em collect your backside! I daresay you've got no choice, 'less you'd rather betray me and work for that bitter old hag instead."

"If you're the big boss, I see no difference. And betrayal nothing; way I see it, why waste both our time if none of us get what we're after?"

"She and I would pay you what you're worth, you're smart enough to figure the rest. Don't like it, then do say hi to the other suck—er, eager workers waiting in line. You wanted a chance, here it is."

Mayfield scanned his eyeballs, and soon bowed his head. Even for those new ideas, there he went again getting into old habits…

"You know what? In your roundabout way, you're right. I was nothing before, never mind now. I want in, just under one critical condition though."

"And that would be what?"

"While doing whatever I can to bring in the big bucks, you let me live here for nothing. That's the short and simple of it… Do we have a deal?"

"You think I'm made of money, Mayfly? Ooooh, the nerve to mooch! When I was your—"

"Spare me the stories, prune-head. I've no food or water, I don't have electricity, your Captain can vouch for my shelter, and I've not a dollar to my name. Sounds like a fair trade to me."

"Oh foo… Eyeball, show this young loafer 'round his new home, and let's not interrupt my scheduled nap any further."

A low growl her only response as he hovered away, before she'd beckon her new charge to her. Only his remark, to beat her to the probable punch.

"THAT'S the guy above us all? Damn, age or otherwise, that's a special kind of arsehole."

"Tells you the whole story, doesn't it? Don't be too down however; dangerous work or not, it's our tips that keep us alive. Long as you follow my orders, you'll be fine. Thought about your role?"

"Your lucky's my scared to death, but here we are. I'll be your delivery boy, got a legacy and spirit to uphold."

"Got it, and that's a good thing kid. I KNOW there's way worse one could suffer, and that complacency kills. If we're clear on those, we'll have no problems."

"Clear as could be. Just don't imagine that I'll forget your—"

"Okay, that's enough! Don't invite reminders, you won't suffer again. Sound fair?"

His nod and shrug as her arm swept across: "So here's the Hangar, where the magic happens. Before we take off, it's here we perform repairs, tune-ups and details, at least when we can afford to. You'll get your duties, but as you're on probation, you MUST get full-time crew to assist. If you seek Amy or myself, we'll be—"

"Wait wait wait… Could you say that again, just a little slower?"

"If. You. Seek. Amy…"

"I'd be glad to, but where's the queue?" A snicker to earn her confusion, then a sudden & sharp slap over the lips.

"Ow, was that worth killing me for?"

"Listen here, idiot… I'm here to educate, NOT entertain you! As for Amy, she's the only other lady, doubt you'll miss her. Most occasions, she'll help you scrub down our ship; least once a week from front stripe to back fins."

"So, high-danger deals to summon High Command, I take it? Or shall I say, high-high Captain?"

Her pained grunt towards his smirk: "Yes, and in this building or on that ship, you'll do well to remember my rank. Now how 'bout, for five minutes, you can your little smartass act?"

"Yes, ma'am… _For fuck's sake._ "

Glances of beakers to bubble as Leela led him about, mystery as to their purpose. No chance to ask as his eyes caught the wooden benches, labelled lockers, and tiled offshoots just around the corner.

"So this over here's our locker rooms, sure you've seen them about. In addition, complete unisex showers to—"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute… Unisex showers? You mean to tell me that—"

"Both ladies and gents wash together? No, we slide across the floors in pink shirts all day. What do you THINK unisex means?"

"Not that I've experience, but guess it don't mean rooting on college campus anymore." A small pelvic thrust, to only a face-palmed roll of eyes.

"Oh for God's sake, grow up! If you can't handle naked bodies here & now, you'll be hopeless when our lives fall into your hands. Until that day, here's your chance to get comfortable."

"Bloody hell Captain, could ya suck in some helium for once? I've been here just two days, you expect all that from me already?"

"I'm sorry, did I hear you say you're not capable? One way or another, you're gonna learn what millions like you already have… Step up, step aside, or start stepping out."

"Oh yeah, great plan, if you'll even allow me my first steps."

Just a groan and shrug to give, before a quick lab tour and a move to the HQ's front door.

"So here's where we'd normally come in to start work; immediately after is Hermes' office. Bureaucrat you saw yelling at our doctor, just a moment—"

Mayfield's quivers rocked him again: "Stop right there! You mean to tell me that with just FISH, you bribed that doctor to get us in here?"

"For one thing, stop interrupting, and for another, did I stutter at all?"

"Apologies, just glad I didn't go to medical school."

"Was my fervent hope you did. Professor'll require a physical for paperwork's sake, so sorry to say, you're gonna have to see him."

"He ripped that wall to shreds, and Professor gives him ACCESS to my delicate bits? Ohhhh shhhhit…"

"See, NOW you're getting it."

Soon a step inside the elevator, and soon a lustful squirm as Mayfield caught their theatre-sized screen. To picture himself watching that, it left him in a near-drool.

 _"The ultimate middle finger, to those families and their fat wallets and…"_

"Wake up kid, here's our conference room. Starting Monday, you'll arrive and be seated by 9 o'clock sharp, WITHOUT exception. After that, it's just the roll, reminders, questions and mail call. And before you get excited, that screen's just for security and business purposes only."

"Damn, had hoped otherwise… But what business, when all I see is floor space?"

A stare and small shake: "To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if we're out job hunting by next week. Given our 'priorities' of late, our lack of deliveries for so long… Just so you know, okay?"

"Gee, great news to hear. If you're asking that I should prepare, you're waxing the wrong words on me."

"Then learn to, or get left behind. Past conference is the kitchen, as if you'd ever need a tour, and after that's the lounge, a good home to start I'd think. And that concludes our tour, any thoughts?"

"Fat jokes, ma'am? When my gut grows bigger than your eye, then I'll—"

Almost like lightning, she gripped and squeezed his throat… The fears of Gods, in his face once again.

"You want a lip fatter than both, just keep talking… We know I can deliver."

 _"Gack, urk… Alright, alright, I'm sorry, dammit I'm sorry!"_ A cough and splutter once she let go.

"That's better. Now tomorrow, I'll show you inside the ship, but I will expect you by that table at noon sharp. Both days, NO excuses. Are we clear?"

"Loud and clear, ma'am."

"Good, now how 'bout we move you in?"

It'd take a few return trips and stuffed backpacks, a sunset sunk beneath the skies, before Mayfield hauled out all his clothes and cash. A quick move to get himself settled, before the Captain got his attention.

"I trust you'll be fine setting yourself up? Not gonna hold your hand forever, after all."

"I'll figure it out, and hey, thanks again for everything… 'Till then, hooroo."

Waves to each other as the cab became another twinkling star; kid now off towards his new 'quarters'. Crossing into the conference room, a sight that escaped him the first time; could've sworn he'd seen one of those black fuzzy creatures around. But in a tiny red cape & diapers, of all things…

Dismissed as he checked his space out—big drawers, a decent TV, place to eat, okay if rigid couch… Compared to what he knew it had been paradise, for at least the potential he could share in.

Plonked down ready to sleep, the odd lump to remind him of home. Quite a busy day full of lessons, and only the tour and adventures ahead as he tried to drift off.

Unfortunately, that lump had close ties to Planet Express, and now no inkling to trade pleasantries.


	7. A Royal Reaming

Paid no mind to muffled cursing as he laid down, but Mayfield sure felt the shock for doing so.

However it came, it would catapult him across and over the couch, just degrees from cracking his crown or snapping his neck. The seared scent of skin to stiffen him, but soon the all-too-familiar presence to know the cause.

"Oy you furry black mongrel, what's the big—"

"That's Lord Nibbler to you. And I'll thank you for disappearing on me."

"And I'll thank you, cockroach, for charcoaling my neck. The hell do you want now?"

"I only stopped by to congratulate you on your new home. All I ask in future though, is that you give us some notice next time."

"Yeah, yeah, great. Well, if that'll be all Your Fuzziness, leave."

Chin to stroke, eyebrow to cock: "Pity for you, I don't take orders. But what bothers you in such cause for celebration?"

"I've had too long a day, and if this is 'opportunity' in your language, you need to speak better English."

"Child, face me instead of the wall. And must you imply that I cheated you in some form? I made it clear, that there'd be no help beyond the very basics."

"To clear my chest, I could be." He'd then square to Nibbler's eyes. "You telling me that all you could give was a game of life or limb, just to grab a MEAGRE living?"

"It's a start! Who do you think you are to expect a smooth ride here, never mind this life?"

An eye-roll from his audience, but still he paced about undeterred.

"True treasure's the company you keep, and for all their trials, I've known no crew as tight-knit as this one. And when I've lived scores of lifetimes to your quarter-of-one, known uncountable amounts to quit for MUCH less, that says something."

"And I fit in how? In their so-called happy family, I'm a thousand-year old nuisance at best. You believe I'd ever be that close, when I was lucky to be hired… How 'bout you go lecture someone else?"

"You're the child I chose to educate. But perhaps you could enlighten me; this 'money over man' mantra always bothered me when I first found out."

Only a sneering headshake, as Mayfield left for a moment to grab a glass of water. It would perhaps take a while…

From the society he knew, there'd been schemes since youth to isolate him. Decisions to deny or denigrate all those growing years. Keenness to kick his adult self, while he kept nursing old bruises. And that forgot that chapter and then some, of his first days in New New York. Forgot he'd been tired, in all the time he ranted.

"Money never screwed me hairball; either I had enough or I didn't, and those were my facts of life. Whether pink, blue, red, gold or green, my true friends kept to themselves. So once more for you and your God friends, to HELL with your precious society. Could I make that any clearer?"

Any airs of calm as good as gone, as Lord Nibbled arched his back, slanted his eyes and voiced a hiss.

"That how the once-rancid corpse thanks me? To act like a snivelling quisquilian buffoon, who absolves himself of blame?"

"Go ahead & enlighten me, you Oxford dork!"

"A chance to pontificate I'll gladly take. Society's a two-way street; not just respect the world wants and gives back in kind. For all your lectures towards others, we know the truth about that, don't we?"

"Did you fall asleep sometime in your snooping? What do you give, when you lose everything? How do you care, when you keep getting kicked to the curb? Why would you bother, when that cycle repeats day after day, no reprieve in sight?"

"I assure you, I did not. And to say you lost everything is a complete lie. Why then did you volunteer before, take up public works after? Did you subject yourself just out of belief that experience and money were all that mattered?"

"What else, if such things exist?"

"That's precisely the point I've been making. Even for lacking those, you knew how good you had it, that's what drew you towards those people. You gave for giving's sake, always had such a heart to do so."

"Maybe in another life, but not anymore."

"By the Nibblonians, everyone saw how you damned them, saw how you'd wither and die, saw you look out for number one. Who are you trying to fool?"

"What proof do you have, to say I had a choice?" Mayfield's face had flushed, the veins began to throb again.

"Didn't matter who in the end, but when things got too hard, you CHOSE to run, you CHOSE to leave them all behind. However did you conclude that to make anything better? Maybe you never deserved those dollars, that good turn to get you on your feet."

Teeth threatening to break as his face trembled, Mayfield itched to reach out and rip that eyestalk off, have the thing flop in his hand. Didn't help either, that the furball had hit his stride.

"You've got the nerve to lecture me on life, when I've seen entire galaxies born? On loss, for my race's eon of wars? On opportunity or friendship, as I rescued your corpse from a self-inflicted ruin? You make me sick… I'd suggest you be grateful for being here."

A sudden leap from the couch had Mayfield's giant frame loom over.

"I'll give you grateful, you bite-sized bitch… Shut your mouth, or get four-finger slapped outta here."

"I've fought more wars than days you've lived; make your peace if that's all you have."

"I'll find peace with your head in my fingers."

"Would widdle baby want his bottle? Some diapers, perhaps? Cause that's all I hear right now."

Mayfield's spit could've consumed the floor, as he kicked tables and slapped the couch. Couldn't deny the 'peachy' life before, but it'd been a better paradise than what he'd known recently.

"Screw you and your soapboxing, you little shit! You think I asked to suffer YOU, to suffer this crazy mess? You think you deserve my ears, after all these problems you put me in? I'm nobody's experiment, I'm my own man."

"A bold declaration, yet one that doesn't match up. Just so we're clear… Could you? Were you confident that, before I delivered you here, you had your life, future and legacy as good as ensured in that moment?"

"Damned right I was."

"Well then enlighten me… I'll be waiting."

Never a smugger grin to give as he watched the kid stutter "umms", "ahhs" and "you knows" in between pauses. A question to stun him worse than the shock, his flop down and hands gripping his forehead to finally have him clear his throat.

"Thank you Nibbler, glad you helped, Nibbler… Now aren't you glad we're having this conversation? If how I saw you was your idea of figuring life, you should've been dead and rotting LONG before we officially crossed paths. Here's your chance to do things right, and perhaps much greater."

Only a weary nod as he laid out his whole adult life; now he knew why he hadn't visited the graves… Had been afraid of what the dead might say.

"It was the only world I knew, and you took that from me. Who were you to judge, to abuse my atomic-sized slice of life, if your claim to such immortality is true?"

"Just an interested observer who bet against you, proof that even I can make mistakes. Every week you survived, was another seven days I sat empty at our Feast of a Thousand Beasts. You go without for over seven hundred days, you really start to wonder…"

An odd squirm in Mayfield's guts, though he'd admit to it being far-fetched at best.

"Our methods aren't ethical or agreeable, I won't deny, but we're not your enemy. Billions before and after you have lacked faith in us, but they never saw us in the flesh. Who we allow to do so, we don't take lightly."

"Faith schmaith! You still have no right, and never will, to take away one's life."

"Protests or no, have we steered you wrong? From this day, you'll get to learn what the universe's most feared generals may learn too late; money won't always conquer mankind. It's a lesson that'll count one day, I promise you."

Could only glance at ground & ceiling, before the kid shrugged towards those points. No-one owed him the time of day, and yet he'd sit on the big boss's couch, twelve hours from the Captain's teaching. It was a welcome change, one that could've spilt the world and more into his hands.

A natural conclusion to motion a fist to chest, his stand to declare a promise.

"Sure as I've been a sarky bastard from a sunburnt country, I shall seize this chance from now. Every time, I shall give this my all. Over time, I will pay my gratitude forward. In time, may I find the friends and family I seek."

"That's what drove me to pull you out. And long may that continue."

"Whatever. And as for these little power games of yours, hear this and know it… We're gonna have problems if they keep up, got it?"

"I'll remember to wear my scared face. Until then I implore that you relax, get to know your crew, and of course, stay out of trouble. After all, the first delivery's always the hardest."

A sudden flash of light to blank some memories, and then the creature hopped off the couch and out of sight.

For the weekend ahead, either a few logs to fill, or a grand tour to get fitted in.


	8. The Grandest Tour

The richest he'd been in rather a while, but never a poorer sleep to have.

Between future voyages and past lives, all rolling tempests inside his head, Mayfield could only moan, toss about, and crash to the floor. Only the sunshine of dawn to blast him awake; quite the rant as his dragged feet along the tiles.

No pint of ice-cold water, nor a series of slaps, to stop his table slumps or gaping yawns.

"Ugh, shout for Ruth, what a night. How will I ever stay up for this tour?"

Decision made on fresh air; paced down West 57th in no time. Mere moments 'till he stumbled across Family Bros Pizza; in aprons over jeans or dresses, stood two immigrants. A crease of confusion as they scrubbed on their knees, their own American Dream to shoot for.

Thoughts of the world he left behind, until he'd see them stand and seemingly argue. Feelers & all, they were man-sized, cockroach-like creatures; kid's heart to beat holes in his chest.

 _"Are you friggin' kidding me?! Fourth bloody type in two days, do I catch 'em all or somethin'?"_

But such sudden fears to soon move aside, as he saw no obvious sign or proof given their cries. For what he assumed were against their worries, he'd pat his heart.

 _"Ah, they look alright. Not like anyone'd come from the far reaches to trouble us…"_

The city a virtual ghost town as he ambled along; weekend ceasefire of his liking. Still felt certain of the contempt, especially so for that gym once more. Life was trying enough WITH his face intact, so he'd take his steps to the towering HQ of 'Mom's Friendly Robot Company.'

Chin to bristle chest hairs as he scanned from golden front doors to tip-top spire, the risen sun to leave it aglow, as he'd find himself in the arched glass.

 _"Man, I think I got duped. To think that addled, dried-up corpse is my—"_

Such thoughts and scenarios to not last, as sounds of lasers began to charge up. Security turrets, no doubt a trespasser… Different story to find the guns lock sights on HIM.

Another storm from his mouth as his belly wobbled, a pelt to safety as organ-ripping pulses kept behind. Stopped as soon as started; could only clam up for checking jeans and glancing back.

 _"Bloody hell with that! She can stick a probe where the sun don't shine…"_

Temptations towards breakfast for passing the department store, before he'd find Rook Takes Pawnshop and 7^11. The former checkmated in business's chess game, and dearest hopes that prices weren't literal for the latter.

Imagined one store to run on goodwill, before such thrills subsided to the Holy Grail before him. Between books and debts in his battle, the books would often lose, and he knew no place for miles to escape that reality.

 _"The New New York Public Library… It's so nice to be back where I belong."_

Almost a jig to dance before he'd climb those stone steps, tiptoe through the hand-carved doors, and let the scents of rich, lacquered mahogany wash over him. All those countless volumes for his fingers to flip through, all the odd scratches, scribbles and clicks to prick his ears.

There'd be the chaise lounges; for the comfort, would've thrown his back out to steal one. A dozen pages each across centuries of classics, the time no longer of concern as eventually, he nestled in for a nap.

 _"By oath, doesn't get much better… Knowledge, solitude, escape from the hustle..."_

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Whatever woke the kid he didn't know, but he was in a world of good upon return of his books.

A stretch and scratch about once he returned the last one, quick look above the librarian to a digital clock. The readout of 11:45 to flash a thought; one several orders worse than his tour to stand just 15 minutes away.

To remember how he originally met the Captain, her warning over HQ…

The heads of man, woman and child to turn, to see him slap his head in yells of "SHIT!" No cares for the dirty looks or yells; guaranteed to be late given the panic, lack of fitness, ignorance of city life, and no direction whatsoever.

 _"Of all days to forget my cash and cell phone, why today?!"_

By luck and a little chance, he'd get back to that Populuxe building, only the one stare once inside to confirm the worst. Face-to-face with chest heaving and mouth huffing, all he could was her jaw clenched, arms folded, and nose to turn her neck. A single word, laced with thorns.

"Well?"

Side-eyed glance at the kitchen clock, to hang his head: "I fucked up… your schedule. Half hour late… no excuse… I'm—"

"Absolute disgrace, kid. You did a tour of takeaways or something?"

"Matter of fact, I—"

Finger to his lip: "Don't you dare correct me. Just get your ass down that elevator."

"Of course… Ma'am."

Old boss flashing in eyes as he hopped about, constant yelps as Leela virtually shoved him the whole way. Almost toppled at times, but any anger for himself or her would die down with the roundabout view above the stairs. Smiles for looking above, for who he'd see, and now a sudden urge to listen.

"Welcome to our bridge kid, where I command all there is and will be. You may come up front, but as to any interference OR word, I've the only say-so as to when. To keep clean and do your duty, our bathroom's round the corner, can't miss. Unisex, deal with it. Now move your ass, lest I kick it."

Where she stopped next had her sigh, and him to rocket back and bury his nose inside. Beyond him laid a waist-high pile of rotting remnants; old food mush, loose hairs, skin flakes, spilt drinks, layers of dust…

"You gotta be fu—"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, permission to speak, Captain?"

"Go ahead."

"The hell is all this? I was never a clean freak, but Gods alive that's—"

A flinch in her face as a hand palmed the wall, and a finger cut him off: "Commit this to memory, right now. This cabin's on loan, emphasis loan, so you can rest up. Should I hear you defile those landlords again, you'll be lucky if I don't 'escort' you out. Are we clear?"

"Uhhh, sure."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I mean, yes Ma'am!"

Could only mutter and look about in a daze; such a strange thing to be so protective of. Dared not ask why for crossing her twice, only hoped he could question her rapid points to shoot out.

"Right here's the airlock, there's the escape chute, that's the vending room, and right in front now, the laundry room and prison in a pinch. Oh, if we ever need spare supplies, that's the box to get 'em. No repeats necessary, I hope?"

A forced smile, as mad scribbles grew madder: "None at all, ma'am."

Never heard Leela take the ladder in staying up to speed; took a foot and almost his body to plunge before he'd scurry aside, heartbeat to scare a pygmy mouse. Another light-speed tour to come, this time to where they could cook, eat, and hang among crew.

And then of course, there'd be the ship's Med-Bay.

"Okay kid, just 'cause I show you this, doesn't mean you'll get access. If Gods forbid I must send you, I'll expect whatever's through this door to be given your utmost respect. Any less, it's your pocket or your head. Hopefully, you'll get why by the name."

A stroke of beard before a palm offering: "Yes ma'am, but how much worse could it really get? For all your damage of before, only set me back a couple of brain dudes."

"First, I told you not to bring up the past again, and second, you think I'm the worst to face out there? At its most carefree whim, our universe could make child's play of me. And best yet, Mom bought out the med markets even before I started. Just hope you never run out of… Of—"

"Of what?"

"Never mind, was nothing."

A raspberry blown to Mom's twice-proven streak, as they'd step down to third deck and the final rooms.

"And here we are, cargo delivery. Our mouldy bread and frozen butter. Quick question, have you ever operated any cranes or magnets?"

"Of all the games I've built skills towards, never made claw machines a part of them."

"Just my luck. Well when they apply, joysticks control the winch, the buttons control the magnet. Labels are nice & clear, so please don't make me auto-pilot for this. Just prove, for once, that you won't screw a thing up."

Eyes to roll and shrug to exaggerate: "How nice, I've already the vote of no confidence."

"You've earned nothing to say otherwise. I could've left you crumbling alive in Cookieville."

"One blessing of few, I guess…" he'd call as they moved along. "Phew, anyone bring a towel and some rocks?"

"That's no sauna, that's our engine room. True marvel of many; moves the universe around us, offers 200% fuel efficiency in doing so. In effect, we can fly at 99% light-speed, faster than you'd remember of it. And Professor built the whole thing, so save the impossible speech for him."

"Ma'am, this city shut my mouth even before we met. See yourself through my eyes, and you'll know what's possible."

"My eyes, yeah, real cute."

"For Christ's sake—he'd facepalm—"that's not what I meant! If you were me, would you ever imagine seeing YOU in the flesh?"

"That better be what you're implying. Anyway, that's that for today. Where shall I see you tomorrow?"

"Same place, your time?"

"Right. On that day you'll learn how we stay ship-shape for delivery. Dismissed."

His turnaround to walk and hit the library again, until her voice called out:

"Oh, wait, couple more things before you go."

"Yes, Captain?"

"First, upon permission to speak, I'll allow you to swear within reason. Crazy as it sounds, it steels us a great deal given the right moments. But you must ALWAYS keep it clean & professional towards customers. Lord knows they've lots of reasons already to stay away."

"No worries, anything else?"

"Second, since your apology was genuine, I'll let your lateness slide just the once…"

A flicker of a smile as she got close, and then stabbed a rough finger in his chest.

"But if you're late again, for ANY reason, your first day's gonna feel like a papercut… Got it?"

Shaken nods as she'd let him go; twinges, squirms and jerks to return in force. Only those kneading wet thumbs of the shower, to have him forget for a while.

Under those jets or over brunch though, that 'tribute' and those words would play in his head. The stench to rival old homes aside, he'd never known anyone to reject, yet obsess over, the old days quite like Leela.

 _"If I thought my life before was awful, what the hell does she hide?"_

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Sunday morning to meld those mistakes into one mush pile, leave Mayfield's throat to close up.

Coughs, splutters and promises to cherish the couch; mental note or three as he drank his water. First, to buy himself a watch, chief among everything else. Second, figure out how to travel BEFORE he actually walked. Third, keep finding ways to enjoy his free time, knowing he could lose it quick.

But perhaps by coincidence his Captain's words came true; there'd go the likes of Elzar's Fine Cuisine, Guadalajara Brown Drip, and a world of other diners and dine-ins to form spit on his lips. Thought it too early yet, even if he'd admit to hunger.

Central Park, and quite the free show as he leaned over the railing, saw one couple skate about. To see them glide across the field of ice, do all those spins to dizzy him, and care not for any audience, it just had him clap and shed tears.

 _"Ohhh, Mama would've loved seeing this in person. Not sure she'd care for the rockets though."_

More questions in mind; how that ice stayed frozen, what lessons he'd learn, and of teachers, what bothered his Captain. A burning in his head once he crossed the Aleph-Null Plex, Madison Cube Garden, or the boardwalk beside the Hudson. Architectures alone to stand as date spots, to say nothing of histories layered beneath.

 _"All I've missed over the centuries; film, music, sports, what else? Yet I'd never leave a tribute like THAT behind…"_

Theories to gather steam as the Leaning Tower poked into view, sending him to crunch over the sand and sea stretch of Monument Beach. A leaping pump of fists; could've begged for a sabre fedora as he rubbed the Easter Island heads, bent backwards before Big Ben, philosophised with the Great Sphinx, and took in the original White House and Mount Rushmore…

History-changing mad scientists aside, it pleased him to find the home—of a sort—for his long-gone world. A smile to split his cheeks, and no idea of the hours to go by, as his eyes soon met the police station and the two officers having coffees.

"Yo Smitty, stuffed turkey for Thanksgiving, 12 o'clock."

"It's only ten URL, what are you talking about?"

"Your thinkin's funky, fuzz brother! You sure you didn't order decaf?"

"I'd have you strait-jacket me for that. Gotta admit you're onto somethin'; t-shirt & jeans, hands buried deep, strange grin and 70 degrees out here… You know what that means?"

"Undercover pursuit in progress… baby."

Moment they met, it took Mayfield every ounce of restraint to level his breaths. Hard to forget those to menace and desert him all those years ago; knew he had to seek his own justice now…

Not that the deputy, in his country redneck twang, gave him the chance.

"Just here to perform a friendly stop-and-search, citizen. Happy to cooperate?"

"Friendly nothing, and you know it. But gotta do what you gotta do. Just get it over with."

A silky-smooth, Shaft-like voice to follow: "Don't make me break that smart mouth, cat. Less you whine, less of your time."

Cool-headed to the cavity search, the kid could've shat himself when the robot volunteered. That air to vacuum from his lungs as the cold metal worked in, confirmed him clean. Left him to hobble along, even as Smitty stared after him in doubt.

"I don't know 'bout him, gives me no belief that he's just some honest Joe."

The robot to scrub and polish down: "Quit your jive talk; nasty ass aside, he was good. Now how 'bout a sub before we loaf off again?"

Kid's thoughts that it couldn't have been personal, that he could've worked on his tone, as he took a chance to breathe. Once he reached a signed sidewalk and hailed a cab, he'd be taken aback again by how he'd sit level against those once-looming skyscrapers. Got used to the greetings by now…

"Wait, whoa, no drills?"

"You think? Look, ain't got all day, where you wanna go?"

"Uhhhh, that department store, where was it again…" He'd click his fingers, the answer to snap in mind. "Ah!"—slapping his head—"Alien Overlord & Taylor, please."

Though brief, the brilliant new perspective had him believe that maybe New New York wasn't as big and bad as he first thought. And with his eventual choice of watch, a blue-and-silver analogue that gathered its eye-rolls, he knew he was ready for much more now.

Back into another cab and Planet Express, where he now had time to shower, dress and scrub his teeth. Sure enough, his Captain arrived to see him stand there, singing or speaking to himself.

"Hey, I actually showed up on time… This time."

"Save the confetti for something important. So, ready to go?"

"But of course Ma'am. Lead the way."

Towards a rack this time as Leela would expose the gamut of tools they had access to; power drills, wire cutters, squeegees, oxy torches. All meant to patch up, polish and piece together their good ship, take her out for that last delivery.

It was when he got introduced to one duty—among many—where the tour came unravelled.

Only one way to wash the ship at home, as he saw her shoot about the air on a hovering platform, seemingly miles above his head.

Her invite to join in, and only his shaken knees and body shivers as he squeaked up towards the underside. He not at all convinced of the low wall between them, and she who'd tap her feet to match a Riverdance troupe.

"Listen rookie, by the time you're done washing, I'll be retired… What are you so afraid of?"

"Oh, take your pick… Falling over the edge, permanent disability, maybe death?"

"Or rather"—before she shoved him aside—"that you've got nowhere to run now?"

"The hell are you doing?!" Ducked down low, as he saw the floor disappear.

"I suspect gravity will have a good word, if you keep your nonsense up."

"Lady, are you for fuckin' real with this violence? Could never imagine how you grew up or what's happened since, but back off would ya?"

"Number one, I don't take orders from you. Number two, I'm not the superior you want to swear to. And number three pal, YOU'RE the one putting ideas in my head."

A lose-lose situation yet again; he'd face his boss, then the floor, then anywhere else for being a sneeze away from breaking bones. However, such scares for show aside, he tried to trust that Leela or Amy would work towards their common good. So, even against odd flits and furrowed brows, he allowed her guiding hand to help him travel from front stripe to back fins.

Imagined it to take the whole day; had a rare if thin smile as she spoke of lunch. Café next door to open, her offer to wax a few weekend words and get to know one another. Over her sandwich & coffee, a tour of her Spartan kind of life, one to guilt the sweet treats & soda out of his hands.

"Say, thinking of switching subjects, what on Earth's that sleeve-eating device you're wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing? Here's a better question; what hasn't it been? We've had more adventures together than I'd care to count… Or perhaps remember."

"To think my video games teased such ideas, and I'd be here to see them become reality…"

"We may often mock your millennium kid, but we don't find it unworthy either. Hell, I'm sure you got plenty of ideas just walking about. Perhaps we'll take a trip underground, for a history lesson."

"Maybe I did, but I'd appreciate where it all came from… Want me to get this one?"

"Don't worry about it. Right now, you need to save up where you can."

"Thanks, I'll pay it back ASAP. Anywho, when shall we meet again?"

"Why, you planning to take your first day off?"

"Oh, right, good point. I guess 'till then, hooroo and take care!"

A wave-off and maybe common ground for once, yet for the voice to tell him about that first delivery, he had to grip the table.

To travel to that almighty realm beyond, now he knew why he'd been warned beforehand.


	9. First Day on Call

Come the voyages, tosses and tumbles, come the first ominous omens.

Even against the sunshine, was only the kid's need for water and bites to eat, to rouse him awake. One could've heard the gurgles for miles, he'd have thought, as he shot a glance towards his watch. Didn't believe the time at first; plans soon nixed when he checked the kitchen clock…

No apology nor care for his cursing, as he ran back and ripped clothes out. A stare to rival Kim Goodman as he and backpack flurried past, the whirlwind to almost tear apart that curly-haired clipboard carrier—Hermes, he might've recalled.

"Careful yuh dunce bat, and watch what yuh say!"

A dive right inside the lift; door buttons slammed a dozen times, call outs of "Come on!" for each. Triple-jumps towards the locker rooms, yelps and gasps from weekend walks as the Captain's threats rang in his ears.

 _"…Make your first day feel like a papercut…"_

His shiver even in warm water & steam; watch to read eight-fifty once he rode a towel-wrapped skid towards his clothes. A quick dry n' dress, a slide to a sink, and almost a headbutt of porcelain as he prepped his teeth.

Saw that table full once he got out, another swear jar to fill as he arrived on the floor. To looks that could erode canyons, the Captain's for sure, he'd be officially roll-called at three past nine. His apologetic wave to all while sitting, their outright silence as they hit the catalogues, paperwork or coffee.

The Professor to hover in several minutes later; everyone to grumble at the late arrival.

"Morning Planet Express. First things first, before we bankroll into our black hole, let us welcome our newest employee, eh _—"Hermes, who did we hire again?"_

A ceiling point and stammer to concede, to get a hiss in return:

 _"Not that yuh sent 'de paperwork, but we hired 'de bald, fat mon across me."_

 _"Well excuse me for already being in my pyjamas… Who cares when he'll waste our time?"_

 _"Whatever."_ Hermes' turn to Mayfield: "Okay new kid, micase wid 'de intros, would jah? Stinkbug's rotting my breakfast Manwich."

"Uh, 'scuse me?"

"Ya heard me, quashie wasteman! Speak, a beg yuh, before I hurl."

Getting his cue, Mayfield had to hurl a "yeesh" towards the Professor, even for knowing where he sat. Still the sound of silence, as he fixed eyes upon crew & colleague.

"So uh, gidday everyone. I'm Thomas Mayfield, mostly last and rarely first, and I'm your new delivery boy. Not much else except thanks for taking me in, and fair dinkum promise, I'll do my best to build us back up."

Only polite clacks from the crab of all things, a motion to tear the bureaucrat from the table. A big breath to clear his head, before he'd beckon Mayfield towards his office. They'd take their seats, and he'd share the straight talk.

"Mon, were any other suit at 'dis desk, yuh'd have been grounded… Damned Professor did me dutty! Oughta be quite lucky for Leela; if not for her phone call, wouldn't have organised the paperwork."

An outward smile & nod, to quieten the squirms and rumbles that set in. Kid knew he'd never be worthy to scrub NASA's floors, never mind enter their programs, and he'd been happy for it. Now, he'd have neither the accolade, nor anywhere to run or hide.

Soon a whump to send him out of his seat, thoughts that Hermes had dropped the city's tax code on him. Turned out for a glance, the folder was full of company policies and procedures; colour-coded, sectioned, ordered…

Looking about, just as particular as this office. If ever he needed help cleaning a mess…

Eyes to flicker as he flicked through, almost thudding that concrete block before finding a contract slip under his nose.

"That's your game all along, huh? Be honest, no-one's going to read through all these, are they?"

"Keep tally marks for 'dem words. Kill every tenth one."

Figuring it was do or die, no chance to try from here, Mayfield worked a respectable signature into the paper. A move to shake Hermes' hand, only to have a sharp spear plunge through his own. The new home for his career chip, his official licence to fly, not that he cared in that moment.

"YEOW, argh, you son-of-a—"

"Finish 'dat sentence, I'll implant it where it hurts."

Taking those ten whole paces towards that 'doctor', he could only pox the guy behind his back. Through the glass he'd crack a peek; there'd be Zoidberg daydreaming of fish, sleep-snacking on paper. Either this or staying safe; caught him long enough for the doctor to wake, almost rip the door off in greeting him.

"Hello friend! Please come in, don't mind the mess. I take it you're here for your physical?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I was about to—"

"Excellent, excellent."

The pincers to push him in, the kid to wince for his whites getting stained. Eyes to dart and fingers to drum, dry heaves for the smell as Zoidberg grabbed his tools. Earphones and cardboard tubes— dumpster fresh—to check anything but heart, lungs & throat. The next part to send the kid sprinting out, curious calls after him, ready to scream.

 _"I'll deal with the bloody skin, but screw getting snipped by accident!"_

The hangar to now find that cataloguer, buzzing 'round the spaceship. A flawless flow in checking fuel levels, inspecting its outside, looking into the engines… Could've reminded him of the ice.

Thought to wave up and call out, but she noticed his awed silence first. Her yell of "Coming!" as she hit solid ground, shooting her hand out from a foot or two away.

 _"Huh, not like any New New Yorker I've ever seen…"_

Neither of them to notice the spot of leftover grease; sent her to slip, slide and crash screaming to the floor. The kid's turn-away grimace, after which he'd lean forward to offer a hand.

"Thanks, man that hurt! You must be the 21st-century guy."

"Not sure how you knew, but yes. For you poor souls anyway."

"Leela had much to say about you. And we've handled plenty worse, so don't worry."

"Ah, I see. Sure didn't expect you to fall for me; never considered myself the type."

"For one, I've got a boyfriend already, and two, you wish!" Couldn't help but chortle, though.

"Ah dammit, worth a shot… So, whose hand looks to meet mine?"

A shake of hands, a smile from both: "Amy Wong; full-time co-pilot, part-time intern, PhD in waiting."

"Starve my lizard, you're getting a PhD already? Barely look my age… What are you going for?"

"Applied Physics, and why I work here. Have partial hopes to move on, but fear I won't anytime soon. Always reminded that there's a 'ruff' job market out there.

"Bloody outrage, that is. You're a Masters before you can drive, yet that worthless old wart is your boss."

"Hey excuse me, that's uncalled for! Old and losing it, yes, but worthless? Speak for yourself, when that spaceship was of his OWN invention."

"I speak out of present experience, lady. I'll believe you when he helps out, until then—"

"Moving on… how did you end up here anyway?"

"Pfft, think I'd need a glass of good stuff 'fore I got into it. Perhaps best you don't ask, to be honest."

"Riiiiiight, okay… So BEFORE this future stuff and junk, who exactly were you?"

"Who was I? An alcoholic job drifter to recall, so nobody worth a damn. Always a common theme; customers I'd strangle over service, co-workers I'd coldcock over chat to, and managers I'd bury alive than be caught dead under."

"Gleesh, good luck surviving this then… What about outside?"

"When I actually had no whiskey, I'd do odd spurts of writing, play pointless games aplenty. I'm a fine example of failure in life."

"Could've done worse, I'm just not sure as to how."

"Hell, I'll take it. So, how 'bout yourself? Captain told me you were the other lady, but I didn't expect the pink sweatsuit & hairdo."

"Oh shmease… Tell the truth, it's only my parents who've forced this on me. They're another reason why I'd remain here instead of move on."

From there a rant to scorch them alive, her finish to have Mayfield pinch the bridge of his nose. Stunned him cold to know that even now, such people could exist.

"Wow, that shat me off more than it should've… Sorry to hear that, but give yourself credit. For all they've done and tried to do, say you've turned out just fine."

A sudden thunder-clap to disrupt the vibes, ones to glow warm for his compliment.

"Look, I hate to interrupt this marvellous get-together, but the kid and I have some official business." Leela's turn towards him: "If you'll follow me?"

A loud gurgle: "Uh, possible I could get a quick breakfast going, Leela?"

"Captain or ma'am! And you're on the clock now sport, so like hell. Move it!"

Mutters aside, matters had tensed further when he got led to a shiny end locker. To witness him unpack and leave his bag inside, it'd turn her stare upward, her nose ready to blow steam.

 _"Not even this, huh? One stupid, stinkin' end locker; left or right, I don't care… The hell does it take?"_

Her arms to cross as she stared the kid down, knowing how he'd taken another desire of hers without effort.

"Makes me wonder, kid."

"Come again, Captain?"

"I see you sit there, I wonder who the big boss really appreciates around here."

"What are you talking about?"

"I kept our crews in one piece, saved his business and home a dozen times, ditched all my plans to protect him… And what happens? He gives my end locker to a complete punk who was late on his first day."

"Oh piss off, that's not my—"

"Excuse me? Watch your tongue, before I rip it out."

"Can't we just 'swap' lockers and cut the nonsense? Not like they'd realise, would they?"

"Are you kidding? Nice sentiment, but newsflash, we're on camera!" A point to the far corner for proof: "Takes him and Central Bureaucracy YEARS to approve, if he even remembers. I swear, how often he just twists my sisters…"

 _"Who doesn't?"_

Wanted to say it out loud, but didn't fancy those morning trips to Colombia or Sicily.

Once she gave the rundown on changing his combo code, a loud call to action rose over the PA system. Soon as they all got seated, Mayfield almost doubled over as the Professor raised his arms in a grin.

"Good news everyone! We're about to deliver these crates of brand new sheets & blankets, courtesy of a loyal customer on Stumbos-4. They need resupplies for their chain of hotels."

The words to whiten knuckles, to curl the kid's stomach in. Time was here, and everyone could tell.

"Since you're most familiar Leela, it'll be your job to educate your crew, on top of ensuring the delivery's success. For one thing, they'll have to contend against the planet's absurd gravity."

 _"Absurd as in how?"_

"Why, one could be crushed by their own hair… Enjoy your stay!" A wave-off, could've sworn he heard him laugh.

While the ladies left and got to work, Mayfield just super-glued himself to his seat. In dreams & reality, his head would paint twisted scenarios; knew he'd regret not writing his will, that he should've sold drugs on the street…

 _"Positive thoughts… Breathe in, positive. Breathe out, thoughts. Breathe in, clean shave. Breathe out, competent crew—"_

"Hey Mayfield, you comin' or what?"

The Captain's call as she stamped some paperwork; steeling himself, Mayfield rose to help trolley the crates. Two of them, wide and deep as he was tall, and a seat to compose himself once Amy took the joysticks.

Nerves now fired up, no help whatsoever for Amy rising and locking up the cargo bay. A small fit until he saw Amy ascend, suspicions brewing that they'd take off, safety known or no. He'd reach the bridge and sigh, for finding the ladies flicking buttons and affirming ship conditions to each other.

"Listen buster, I won't have human torpedoes on this ship, so buckle your ass up!"

Her order to jolt him towards the seat; belts to fumble about his fingers as the first and final countdowns were had. The speed to rip the kid into his seat, as they became a reverse lightning bolt towards the horizon.

For first adventures and Stumbos-4 to await, he could only clamp eyes shut and pray to break the clouds.


	10. Awakening

To flash clear in Mayfield's mind, set his grounding on Earth for good, one particular incident.

Short walk from his house. Special school bus. Him dressed all in grey. A goodbye to Mum, and an off-handed astronaut comment. Most would've called it innocuous; never could expect those tears to pour nor tirades to come. Such a sudden swing to shock the adults, leave several children crying themselves.

A spike in imagination, or simple 'change' in routine? Million-dollar question to what overloaded him then, especially for the hours it took to calm everybody down, convince him of staying on solid land. Decades since that day, and he'd think it a likely factor—of several—to mark his exile in stone.

Hollywood to concrete his fears, the Challenger and Columbia to glue his eyes shut and clutch the seat. So much for second chances, when his ashes would sprinkle the skies as those brave voyagers did before him…

Except, by the ladies Luck and at the helm, that didn't seem to happen.

All the ship's bumps, rocks and jolts would soon settle, sail smooth through those seas. The kid to fight his face; right eye first, left next, look about, shut & repeat. Several attempts to keep them open, several more to stand as ice crawled up his spine.

Minutes to face that abyss, the slow gaze to stretch his jaw as those wonders rushed into his head. Light years beyond libraries and world monuments, all the doubts he'd nurtured as a child had soon come to unravel.

 _"Oh my Gods…"_

Hands shaking across his mouth, as astral snowflakes drifted by. A bite of his knuckles, to whiz by all those worlds. His eyes like lighthouses, as they cruised through clouds of coloured dust. Ear-splitting grins, once the frozen trails, hellrocks, and star-sucking anomalies greeted him one by one.

This was no fantasy nor careless imagination. No documentary nor news article. No artist's rendition nor live feed. True as he dragged his feet, he stared toward the Big Bang certified, billions-aged Universe.

 _"Bugger me frontways… All I've done to deserve Hell, yet there lies the Heavens… Mama, Papa, I'm home."_

It bowed him to his knees, fell him to his front. Slaps of the bridge floor, a clasp of his face, and soon the tears to follow. A happiness he hadn't known in years; none of this to escape the Captain's notice.

"Auto-Pilot, set course for Stumbos-4 and… take the scenic route."

"Certainly ma'am, calculating longest course…"

To sit up and see that sincere smile, feel her tender touch over his shoulder, the kid had to cocoon up. Most craven act he'd show her, he'd think, until her back-pats assured him otherwise.

"Drink it in, kid. No smoother drop you'll taste, I'd believe."

Limbs like lead as she helped him up, heard only a whimper as she saw a raised hand bow for the bathroom. Beard hairs still wet, figured he'd tried to freshen up, stiffen that lip for her.

"Just after people Mayfield, not soldiers. Y'know, I've often got worries as Captain, but I DO enjoy taking this old girl's wheel. A splash of modest wine, a generous cup of Auto-Pilot, throw in an ice-cream tub…" Her lean into his ear: _"My recipe for magic, bottom line."_

 _"_ You're selling it orders short to magic, ma'am. Would've given all I held dear to watch the skies do this stuff, and yet, my first front-row seat's also my finest."

"That why you hated the old life?"

"You don't drown your throat in 101-proof, if that'd been your only problem. But instead of the fiery abyss, judgement laid me on city outskirts, centuries forward in time, to read and learn this library of 'life lessons.' Go figure that mess, when you get the time."

"To think five years ago, I wouldn't have believed you. Lucky you never found our suicide booths."

"They're such a thing too? Oof, after that first night I might've been tempted. Never got that chance to clear things up, and you wonder why I got so pissed off at you."

"To get serious for a second, I should've known better. Once had such impulse control… Since last year, they just keep creeping out."

A moment of dead silence before she flashed that eye, making the kid back off in a hurry.

"Oh Gods, what have I done now?"

"Nothing at all, just giving a picture." Reminders of Zoidberg, in that cackle she gave.

"Hey, screw you ma'am. You wear such scars yourself, you'd see why that's not funny to me."

"Scars aren't just physical kid; you still think I haven't? I allowed you a peek just two days ago; if you value your life, that's all you'll ask about."

"Expect me to know, do you?" A hock of his throat, to become a circus barker. "Rrrright this way friends, step right up for Mayfield's Magical Mind Meld! Watch as he waves fingers in your face, speaks weird words, and exposes your secrets!"

"We're not friends, to get that straight. And just this once, could you can the smartass act?"

"I know we're not. Point is, if I can't see that line, how can I avoid crossing it?"

"Oh you'll get your cues, rest assured. So, floor's yours, how's your first time in space?"

A wave of encouragement, yet another first…

"Right now, it's better than I've ever imagined. It's as if we travel an infinite canvas, where artists unknown can brush and flick from omnipotent wrists. Where they can splash a symphony of stars, planets, galaxies and beyond all together—"

His unsure glance back, and yet another wave.

"All that's around us, actually like us in a sense. Trillions of celestial bodies, created and ceased over billions of years. Each one unique by their colours, shapes, quirks, insides, or daresay their surfaces. I always wanted to sail among these stars, but—"

A firm grip of the dashboard, as he remembered the fears, failures and facts of life.

"I'd grow content to accept it as fantasy, as pipe dreams… After this, maybe I can believe again."

No other words as he stared out again; Leela to stand there and consider her flings of yesteryear. She'd yearn more for iPods than books, had anyone asked, but even she didn't deny his love letter.

"Such sweet talk could swing a woman your way, kid… Just don't get your hopes up."

"Way ahead of you Captain. I've much to work out, ladies don't deserve that shit-show of mine."

"Don't hold out though, okay? I'd wager there's plans yet, and a life lived alone is no life at all."

A promise planned to shake on, until a sudden lurch sent them sprawling. She'd be up and in her seat within seconds, he'd curse as the universe caught him in a spin-cycle. Soon a cacophony of blares, tones, alarms and yells, to slam hands against his ears.

"AMY! Status report?"

"Guh-oh, Captain… We've a Red Alert; dozen Kharmaians on approach, preparing to fire again!"

"Over sheets & blankets? Ugh, hate how they come and go… MAYFIELD!"

"Captain? The hell is going on?"

"Get your ass to that seat, maximum buckling, and DON'T MOVE! Cargo bandits, kill-and-loot kind!"

 _"Oh no…_ Right away, ma'am."

"Hold onto your asses crew, this ride's gonna get rough."

Never a bigger understatement to hear, as Mayfield remembered the rollercoasters of old. All the suckers to be strapped in, sent screaming at speed, torque & rotation. All the turns, twists, turnabouts, drops & loop-de-loops…

Proven kiddie coasters now, and never higher thanks to give than to skip those slices of toast.

The way he'd see Leela dodge and manoeuvre through lasers and cut-offs, the way she sent pirates crashing into one another… Would've dropped his jaw, barring fears of heaving through it.

 _"Sick of playing against these walking handbags…_ Does anyone know how to handle the turret?"

"The kid mentioned wasting time on video games, when we met!"

Only a "Wait, what?" for Amy's holler, before he dreaded for Leela's bark.

"MAYFIELD! Listen up, I'm gonna get us space; moment I say go, get up this ladder, park yourself, and start firing back!"

"Are you mad, Captain? Those games never applied to real life! And since when did you show me the turret?"

"I know, I know God-dammit, but time's short. Enough questions, now GO!"

Ripping his belts off as she dodged and spun more, he leapt up those rungs, cramped inside that dome, and tried to settle in. Dozens upon dozens of buttons to have him draw a blank, overwhelm him as he soon spotted those ambushers.

Not much he could take in; creature of considerable size, many merits over its torso, and green scales to glow like a stop light.

"No-one takes me for a fool and gets away with their lives! Subordinates, initiate large 'Vee-plus-One' formation, and target the sides!"

Even the Captain, for all her capabilities, couldn't avoid such arrowheads of death for long. And as her ship got eaten away piece by piece, she'd again lose her cool.

"Must I send Amy up there? Quit screwing around, fire back already!"

"Sorry Captain, just these buttons here… How do I even turn it on?!"

 _"Oh damn you, Farnsworth! You and your_ —Kid, just scream 'Turret on' and it'll come live… Hurry up, I have no intentions of dying before my 30th."

"You think we're any different?"

True enough the command had worked, as he soon handled the light gun inside. L-Con 42, Blamco-brand, again reminders of care-free days at university. 'Arcadia' over academia, to brush mahogany pool tables, scan those machines, fiddle among joysticks…

At the end of a gun barrel, a fond favourite between bouncing steel balls, catching classic arcades, and dabbling with arrow dancing. Could see the challenge now; wooden bars, vegetable-headed mascots, dozens upon dozens of liquor bottles, just seconds to shoot them all down…

His mission, should he desire to live? Shoot each ship 15 times—the six remaining—in just forty seconds before the breach would blow them out. Gun squeezed in his right, fingers flexed and dried on the left, and careful aim at the screen.

"About time I get SOME use out of my education."

One-two, one-two, one-two, his pointer and middle working overtime. Fingers once clicker heroes, now proven as while his accuracy did rust, and he tired for lacking practice, the pure blitzkrieg would soon outweigh the onslaught. The cadre of crooks reduced to mere creaks, strains, and then fireball send-offs.

"We're getting Swiss cheesed here Commander, the hell do you suggest?"

"I don't know, you worthless schmuck… Let me think for a mo—"

His ship the latest fireball; initial silence of respect before another wave alarmed the soldiers.

"Respect for the fallen, you disgusting creature!"

"Shove your so-called honour… VETE AL DIABLO!"

"My brethren, loot or otherwise, kill those responsible."

Bold words almost carried out, only for Mayfield's final wind and spray to end their chances. Victory for the good ship Planet Express, though it tore them from front stripe to back fin.

To watch those corpses float and flail, choke out those last breaths, it had Mayfield tilt his head, eyes slit in time, before a grin most malevolent crept over his face.

 _"Well, did I let those bastards get a load of me."_

Turret turned off to smoke a bit, no sooner he slid down was he slapped upon the back, a round of cheers given on bridge.

"Woo-hoo, that was amazing!"

"A finer gunman I've rarely known… Excellent job, kid."

Had him shuffle shoes and shrug a little; such compliments to feel alien: "Didn't know I could do that, just glad I—"

"Oh shklit, hit the deck… Incoming debris!"

A scream to dive Amy behind her controls, barrel Leela towards the wheel, and leave Mayfield scrambling for the turret again. Despite all the swerves, those remnants of retribution would collide against the bridge, causing the breach they tried so hard to avoid.

In mere blinks, the vacuum rush of air would pull Mayfield's body from him, rip his grip from the ladder as the side tore apart. Had thought of holding his breath before whooshing out for good, only to crash into a chunk that plugged their hole right up.

No worse mistake for a rookie, had he the time to make it.

 _"Decompression, of all the fuckin' things… Guess for staying in one piece, I oughta be lucky."_

Another matter once he choked on fluid, his legs dead still for all his efforts. The two ladies, meanwhile, to laugh against such whimsies.

"One hell of an escape… Looks like we ride on."

In tears, the kid could only slam fists and gesture in waves, lip-reads of "Screw this, just land!" to grab Leela's attention. Again glad he skipped breakfast; such force might've ripped the 100 Grands right through his guts.

"Speak up kid, I'm not one for charades."

"You can't tell by looking?" Amy chimed in. "I don't want that ship popping loose, so put your pride aside, and get us to the repair bays… NOW!"

Facing away from Amy, Leela would tense up and blast for the nearest planet. All they'd hear the metallic groans, warps and screeches; rubble to indeed pop loose. Their entire side now exposed, instant disintegration a given upon departure.

Just as well Leela would land at Stumbos-4, though she mightn't have cared either way…

"Did you both forget who you were flying under? I was already plotting our safest route, I'm no dummy you two. Now nobody's going anywhere, so I suggest you both get on your feet, quit whining, and follow me to the bay."

Off those boots would pound, co-pilot and charge to just look at each other. A moment shared between his gestures and her head-twirling fingers, her snicker stopped short as a yell shot up the ladder.

"You two happy to starve to death? I'm not, so get your lazy asses going!"

Could've unnerved a Drill Sergeant to see just Amy come down, and as he couldn't so much as scream to signal his trouble, she'd climb back up eager to kick the kid out the side. Course, it was seeing him nowhere near the ladder, to change her mind.

"Come on, the hell's taking—Uh, kid?"

Bluing fingers the first thing she'd spot on bridge; fears once more for skewed priorities again.

"Ohhh crap… Stay with me, stay with me."

Taking a knee to activate her 'Colour X-Ray', she slapped the floor for what she found. No doctor to tell for sure, but knew it would be gross negligence—or murder—to send him out now.

Seizing a dead leg, she rolled through and heaved him upon her shoulders, neither her knees nor back caring to give way. Her charge to pat her back, a weak smile even for being settled in the cabin.

Her tender stroke of his head, his push and roll towards the window, and her turn-away frown as she prepared to take over. Stares upward once she got outside, out of earshot.

 _"Just this once, can you give me someone who'll last BEYOND their first day?"_

The kid to punch out; second chance at life over before it began. Knew there couldn't be any syringe to fix this latest line of defects, that even against ambushes, no-one would bother to keep him around. Business would be business, and he'd join the long line of crew they would discard.

 _"What a world record, Heaven to bedrock in minutes… Man, fuck the Fates, and their cosmic ways too."_


	11. Forbidden Miracles

_"Of all the ways to begin a Monday, and I get them all at once… Don't I deserve a break?"_

Leela's rant to continue long after leaving the kid, her hopeful overseer role quashed as she reached cargo bay. Fingers to twirl pens over tabloid pages; save for the crates she'd check off, seemed like a time loop of late.

"Amy, bad news I'm afraid. Rookie's not gonna make it; suspicions of collapsed lungs, definite break on the lower back. But we get equal tips again, so plus sides and all."

"Splammit Captain… How many dozens have we lost since last year?"

"Already lost count, but good luck getting THAT through the Professor's head! We'll worry afterward; for now, this is Stumbos-4. Take it from experience, it's by no means a moonwalk."

"Yeah, so the Professor said… Should I make some calls about sponsorships from Schwarzkopfin?"

"Kid rubbed off, huh? Anyway, I'd call it wise to take a shower and wash your hairspray out. Head or otherwise, absolute last thing you need is extra weight."

"Captain… Could you PLEASE lay off of that?"

"Missy, for all our trades, I'll thank you to know that I'd never stoop to that. No matter how much of a package you believe I hide."

A curt nod as Amy stacked the goods, comments aplenty on the ease to do so.

"Don't be so cocky," Leela wagged. "Can thank our anti-grav pump inside; outside I'd lowball it at 200 pounds apiece. As such we'll be using the hover dollies; one blanket, one fitted sheet, 40 trips, no exceptions. Questions?"

Amy's eyes met the ground, her lips to purse. Even she'd spot the patterns; they'd survive another day, the Professor'd get an earful, the ship logs would thud the table, and then it'd all get ignored as usual…

"Actually, yeah, I've got one. Given the gravity of everything, do you think we're gonna hold up this time?"

"Can't tell from here. Had the twit up top cared at all, we'd have been done and halfway home by now. Take our hover dollies; that company doesn't take calls in this quadrant, and they're LONG overdue for maintenance."

"You mean to say—"

"Yes, much as I'll rant for it, I'd sooner sit here and fail this delivery, than call for any favours."

"How nice that we can starve together… So how did you know of this planet, anyway?"

"Oh that's right, you bribed some days off. Few years ago, to distract from safety records, Professor would hire Zapp and Kif. The bigger disgrace of both would kick off a mutiny, and he'd almost kill us all upon taking over. Less said about the in-betweens, the better."

"What's so bad about those that—"

"Enough questions, let's go."

For both the abrupt end and their dollies coming down, Amy'd crease her eyes in worry. All those bobs & lurches, blue lights to spit sparks, for them to exchange looks. Chances to worsen, when in debarking the cargo bay, the gravity caught Amy's stride and pulled her leg away.

"Aiii-aiii-AIIIIEEEEEEEE!"

To see her caught in such a split, to be no stranger to her screeches of late, Leela would grab on and drag her backwards leg back to safety. No serious injury by some miracle, but it did force them to leave a dolly behind. And when some Murphy scientist discovered the Laws of Destiny…

"Son-of-a… That's not the crack I wanted to hear."

Captain's concerns valid, more so when the purple rain came down in deluges. Gravity had its part to play again; droplets now mini-meteors that would pummel all in sight. The ship was strong enough to withstand the hits, but not the dolly they had to let go…

Only whines and bursts to leave Leela clutching her head; fell her to her knees as the final bells tolled on that titanium scrap. Her scream to pierce the planet's lands, echo away the silence.

"Why the HELL do I bother anymore? All my plans, shoved aside, to fix up these lists & logs, and here's what I've got to show for it? Swear when I get my hands on Farnsworth, I'll—"

Still tending for breaks, Amy could only grimace: "You said it Captain, we're totally glucked now!"

Taking a few breaths to cool off, her desires burning to not dangle above Mom's maw, Leela began to rack her brain.

"Well, there went our last dolly, so looks like we'd better grab them by hand."

"Are you off your rocket, Captain? I almost got bent inward out there!"

"I'm sorry hotshot, you've got something better?" Leela stepped close, that eye to freeze Amy's spine. "No, no? I am your superior, and not only will you do as I say, but you WON'T take such tones against me anymore… Clear?"

An apology given, but that only lit the fuse on a full-swinging argument. They died here, no point to caring of that bankruptcy rot. Call in Mom or Zapp, such favours wouldn't come cheap, if at all.

Between prideful obsessions and crew survival, seemed a hopeless situation had begun to brew.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Seemed an eternity ago, when he squeezed his Captain's hand before arriving here.

As fingers blued further and breaths choked him alive, Mayfield had to wonder what'd been taking the Reaper so long. The wait to bring on the nausea and growls, just wanted to go to sleep…

 _"Oh screw this… Surely she wouldn't begrudge a last meal."_

A roll of chest and swing of arms to escape that hammock, only to pound his face into the floor. Watery eyes as he thrusted forward, mush pile from trash to treasure until he slid over something cold & smooth.

Had him jerk back; a safe under his face; kids' footprint wide, '1077' scratched into the metal.

Fingers under too much strain, so used his nose to enter that code. Raspy, head-hitting cries to find just blurs of ginger, red, blue, white & grey, until he'd refocus and make out a green tube of sorts. Remembering Cookieville he scrabbled for it, juggling it in his hand until it rested beside him.

His teeth to unscrew the cap, his elbow to make a mess of that tube, and his face and arms to create a mess of dollops all over the floor. Anyone would think he'd been finger-painting, yet it seemed far too late.

 _"Least I got my small victory. May that be enough, to see them all again…"_

Started to believe that he could shut his eyes; his spring upright putting paid to that notion. The inhales and exhales no longer hurting him, the warmth to wriggle back into his fingers, the stretch to confirm his literal kicking about. And then came the rush to course through his body…

 _"Strike a light, the fuck did I rub on myself?"_

A seizure of tube for his vision coming back, all to read that white and gold lettering down & front. Dr. FlimFlam's Miracle Cream, and on the back a mish-mash of foreign characters. Only the big warning in plain English to intrigue him: "MAY CAUSE SUPERPOWERS IN HUMANS."

Could only cover his mouth and roar in his palm, ready to take his evolved body for a spin.

 _"Tea break time, and no need for mush anymore."_

Spare bucks scrounged from his jeans, a quick float to almost strip the vending machine of snacks. Five steps from there to the cabin, yet those cookies were reduced to crumbs. Didn't even reach the hammock, before he scarfed down all his chocolate blocks.

His mouth to hoover up those chip bags, and unleash a rippling belch as he sprinkled the remains over the pile. All as good as quenched, as the blobs became photos of two beings, perhaps the landlords that Leela spoke of.

A skinny-fat, green-eyed man, one to fashion a mullet, would wave at him. Hair to match his jacket, and completed by blue jeans and a white T-shirt. Felt a kinship of sorts; inability to say how or why had him shiver. Alongside him a steel-grey robot; squared eyes, antenna, and formidable barrel-like shape. Against that 'friend' he never needed a thousand words, just the evidence of attempted murder, assault and burglary.

A flash in mind as Captain's warnings rang again. This time of desecration, of peeking beyond where he shouldn't…

 _"Wait a minute, what am I worried about? I've got superpowers now!"_

Soon a scan down the 'side effect' list, to figure his new life out. Thoughts of the old apple squeeze to test his might; an explosion of juice and fruit chunks all over the mess hall to elicit a big fist pump.

Next test begun and done in a blink, as he raced from deck from deck, side to side of the ship. Third test irrelevant; no sea creatures to see from here. No worries for the healing factor, that scored top marks already.

Confident that his fears of death or disability were over, the kid would take the ladders towards third deck, ready to report to the ladies. Course, for his eavesdrop on that one-sided argument, and for seeing that junked-up dolly, he figured their first ride might've become their last.

 _"No favours from Mom I could understand, but this Zapp? Can't be worth starving crew over, can he?"_

Tried running through the reasons why, until a finger-snap moment fired off in his head. A careful leap out the bridge to hit the grass, still quite the thud before he ducked out of view.

Whispers from a better 'God', to lace up his shoes: "If I want miracles, guess I gotta be them."

The chance to do so had come, as he rounded the back of the ship and began his sprint.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Either feast or survival in mind, Leela's hands had started to wrap around Amy's throat.

No chance to cut off air as a blurring buzzsaw screamed past, no sight nor hope to stop them as it seized their stuff. One became five, then ten, twenty & forty, as the blankets and sheets became dust before their eyes. For the latest fate to finish them, both ladies would ball fists and bare teeth.

"You thieving rat, give us back our delivery at once!"

"Yeah, or face the righteous wrath of Lamy!"

Pins could tinkle on grass, as Leela turned her way: "That… That's what you got, putting our names together?"

"Sure I did, why?"

"That was awful, and I'm being nice."

All they could do while Mayfield, delivery notice in hand, rapped his knuckles. Bavarian-styled innkeeper, only reaching his waist yet wider than an 18-wheeler. That voice to shake him; seemed as if they gargled rocks their entire lives.

"Thanks, friend. Sorry 'bout the rain, I'll get 'em washed. Least we can wipe your crew's slate clean."

"Good start as any I'd reckon, but Captain nothing… I'm just their latest in a long line."

Two signatures, as bank funds and cash tips came through. 10% on a five-grand job, offers made on heavy German cuisine as they shook hands, before the kid rushed back for the ship.

His final clouds of dust, as the ladies ascended back to bridge, having seen everything but the thief. The Captain's fist to pound the undamaged side, as she moved for her seat.

"Guess we're as good as stranded here then… Any ideas while we starve, Amy?"

Never allowed an answer when she sat upon her clipboard and delivery form, all those tips in a neat pile. Signatures, one she didn't recognise, to signal completion.

 _"Huh, countless prayers and we get a miracle. Yet I've this feeling… Better check on the kid."_

There in moments, her knuckles soon knocking.

"Hey Mayfield, mind if I come in?"

Worried whispers against those powers to fade; remembering the warning, he trembled as he tried to cover his tracks. Cream capped and flung in the safe, quick lock-ups and burial of safe, then his face towards the window as he returned to normal.

 _"By… all means!"_

Her hand at his waist, a slight grip to have him squirm.

"Amazing, you're still alive. Sorry I haven't checked up, kinda feel like a jerk."

 _"Your delivery… Your duty. Won't drag you back."_

"Oh, don't say that. Your gunship helped get us here. Was determined we could do this, anything to avoid Mom or Zapp."

 _"So… What happened?"_

"Mysterious stranger saved our collective asses. Could kiss them, if I could ever make them out."

Took every ounce to not face her and lean in, unsure of whether he was being tested or not.

 _"So could I… Nice story… I'd bet."_

"Need help to the bridge?"

 _"Thanks, but I'll just… rest up here."_

Another pat or two, before Leela took her seat to call for repair services. An hour or so until the all-clears were given, there she'd sail good as new, twinkling for the free paint and polish job. Even for the vibes she couldn't ignore, she had to smile for that unexpected, much welcome return to Earth.

Mayfield, however, could only mumble, try to excuse his escape from the Reaper. Knew he had neither the words nor the subtlety; was sure that performance didn't convince her. Knew what he'd been told, knew what he'd done, knew he had no argument anymore…

If he knew the full story, he'd have never let such monsters out. Yet in future visions to bubble inside, of broken rules & benefits, he had grown certain of ways to continue turning awesome beyond compare.

 _"Nothing wrong with a few extra lives, I'd think… Just hope my Captain won't find out 'till I'm ready."_


	12. A Side of Suspicion (NEW)

Laughs and hugs for everyone's safe returns, yet good vibes to go quick for seeing the Professor.

To see his shuffle between Widow's Walk and docking controls, it'd have Amy mutter threats. To hover that long, it'd give Leela time to carry what'd been scavenged of their dolly. No chipper greeting he could give, for either to crack a smile.

"Ahhhh, my Captain and crew. Splendid work, knew I could count on you… Come gimme a hug!"

Gave him something alright; Leela would drop her armfuls of hover dolly right at his feet. The chunks of metal to clang, clatter and ring through the hangar, a sound to stumble him as she leaned in.

"Time & again, you waved aside our urgent issues. Time & again, you shrugged off our disasters in waiting. Time & again, you ignored my warnings that we couldn't do our jobs. So all due respect, Professor, SCREW you."

Leela to kick the metal pile again, his audible flinch to shatter the silence. Amy mesmerised to the encounter, yet hoping she'd find some cover.

"I have HAD it with you putting your priorities over our lives, all your stupid tinkering and time wasting. WE keep what you love over your head, you don't."

A pouty shrug to get his lab coat gripped, a rant ready to release before she took moments to breathe. Anywhere else to look, least until she levelled her voice and let him go.

"Oh what's the point? All I can say is get on your knees, and palm those hands together."

"Ooooh, everyone's still here aren't they? Swear to Satan, I'll freeze Hell itself before I figure your mood swings!"

A Captain's flinch to slap his lips off, only to stop short and call Amy forward. The Fates to not forgive her yellow sheet, so just moved forward with the usual checks. Between Captain & co-pilot, bad vibes to still kindle, and not just against the chief.

Meanwhile, acting the snake himself, Mayfield could only crawl down the stairs, a good deal cross for what he heard.

"The hell was that, Prof? Far be it from me to comment, but MAYBE she has points to consider?"

"Quiet, you! You'd best know your place, before I pick up that phone."

"My place? What of it when, not IF, you go belly up? Disappear? Think our new landlord would care for squatters? Send me Sunward if you must, just get your crap TOGETHER! No spaceship inventor should deserve the streets."

Left to consider his dodge of the morgue, from that precious time-bomb just moments ago, he. No career or second chance would mean squat for Leela finding out; even now, she had to have inklings.

Had to crawl back, for only Professor could bring such visions together. Plans to open his mouth, only to meet an upraised hand.

"Mayberry, now's not the time! One wrong move, and the entire planet will cease to be."

"You and your doomsday devices… Besides, your lab is way over there, how could you—"

Got rounded on, coated in frothy spit: "I said NOT RIGHT NOW!"

"Ugh, okay whatever. Let me know, huh? _Fuckin' screwball."_

Whole slithery gimmick to grow tiresome as he crawled up lifts and into lounges, big camera above to confirm cold tiles for sleeping tonight. But as he used his arms to prop himself against the couch, he wondered why Leela had hung about the cabin for so long.

Couldn't have been a coincidence, for the location, code and literal life-saver to end up in his hands.

 _"One hand, I'd knife Leela in place of thank-you for lying to her. Other hand, my reasons to could go beyond health, beyond money too… Hell with it, not like my last will's a mile long."_

Final decision made, he stretched for the remote and clicked through, the 'pleasures' on screen to crinkle his face. Better sight for sore eyes upon the sliding door, and spotting Amy walking in.

"Hey rookie, what's on?"

 _"If there's a bright side, TV's never changed. Mere car crashes or—"_

"You can quit the gasping. Not like it's that poisonous, am I right? By the way, I've saved this for you."

His chest to rise for her palming that two-fifty—her full share—into his hand.

"Um Amy, I never bet against you, and I'm not paying student loans… What's this for?"

"A job well done. Nothing more, nothing less."

"What made you think I did anything out there?"

She gave furtive glances, sat beside him on the tiles, and beckoned him close: _"Call me crazy, but I've the feeling you got that barkeep's signature."_

 _"Pardon me?"_

 _"I can't prove it, but entertain this… Isn't it suspicious that some stranger saves our delivery, our lives and our business, like an out-of-nowhere miracle?"_

 _"Okay, and how?"_

 _"Leela declared your injuries fatal, and save for a blur, there'd been no-one else around. Out of options, out of luck, and she out of her mind… Convinced now?"_

Kid could only roll eyes and whack skull against the couch. Truth had come out, lie had never begun.

 _"Ahhh, no wonder you're a PhD in waiting. But what else do you do, when a simple cream transforms you into the heroes of legend? You go from Heaven to bedrock as I've done, and—"_

 _"Little personal for you, huh?"_

 _"No kidding, lady. A risk I'd take twice any day, even if I'd been beaten down for less. Mark me on it, I didn't find that cream by chance."_

Her nod, a closer lean-in: _"What makes you believe that?"_

 _"For who, whatever and why, I don't know. But least for me, think I'd go far in HQ if I can help sort out our matters. While I figure things though, do me a solid and hush up, okay?"_

Shaken hands as the two began to surf, Amy rising to the couch in time to see Leela stride in. Non-committals as she asked what was on, and her eventual stop on two presenters, sat at a desk with the New New York nightlife behind them.

"Welcome to your Root 2 News afternoon update, Channel Surd for your grandpas. I'm Linda van Schoonhoven—"

"And I'm Morbo the Annihilator, three-time nominee of Earth's Greatest Nightmare," came the gruff call after hers. "Soon to be winner, once I destroy you all!"

Top story to follow, the once-benign plague of Luneditis. States to spring up in panicked dreams and fever attacks; most people to survive only to join the growing suicide lines. Epidemic-in-waiting, for people getting into punch-ups over who'd kill themselves first.

"You shall ALL beg for the booth, when my people hear this!" Green head to throb as Morbo scribbled fast, papers torn to bits.

Linda's chuckle—clueless yet customary—before she turned to C. Everett Koop's head, the former U.S. Surgeon General and her special guest at that moment. In head & beard, a grizzled if well-kept look.

"Thank you Linda. Though it's been several centuries—somehow—since I led public health matters, or since I lost my trademark cigar case, I might hope that you'll speak to your doctor should you show any symptoms. Have them prescribe you a cold cup of ready-mix cement, post-haste."

Kid's laughter to earn a tilt of heads, couple of cyclopean blinks, least until she joined him.

"Yeah, can't imagine it'd be any other day… Those whiny jerks walked in my boots, they'd—"

 _"Pssh, can't ever imagine,"_ Mayfield quipped.

His cross of legs to get comfy, and yet another curious tilt from her.

 _"So this is it, huh? This how we wait around, 'till we get sent somewhere else to die?"_

"You said it. But been having a lack of deliveries; great if you're lazy, horrible if your hope's to have a home."

Nods of sympathy, of personal validation, as sounds of rumbles leapt Leela off the couch.

"Say kid, how about some lunch? Think we could get to know each other?"

 _"You read my mind lady, but where to?"_

His thumbs-up had her narrow her eye a split-second, before she rattled through her regulars like the Food-O-Mat, Elzar's, and the pizzerias and parlours.

"Hey, let's not confuse him now!" Amy butted in. "I've always found the Food-O-Mat reliable, I'm sure he will too."

 _"Sounds good, but I might get myself a doctor first. Be back in a bit."_

He then crawled out, constant gazes of dread to himself. Amy already knew his game, and he was sure he gave Leela reasons to point fingers too. All those missed cues, to start off…

Tried to put such thoughts to bed, upon greeting Zoidberg.

"Gidday doc, how goes ya?"

"Doing just dandy, thank you. How can I help?"

"I need a favour more than help, per se. Stick around, I'll tell you everything."

Took a while to advise the crab and keep him awake, but it all boiled down to needing meds. Whatever could 'vanish' what ailed him, or convince his Captain of such. And to cover his ass, get the doctor's forms to back him up. Genuine smiles offered before Zoidberg stabbed a red-and-blue syringe into Mayfield's arm.

A muffled scream to give yet no strange sounds to hear, as his form was signed & stamped. Chose to pay it no mind, as he left the ladies behind and bounded out towards the lobby.

Captain most surprised of them both: _"Either you forgot kid, or you really don't listen…"_

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Upon looking back, maybe he'd have thought of toning down any eagerness to stuff his face.

Not that the ladies minded, in fact, Leela would use the distance as perfect cover to whisper any plans. Further expose the kid, just to be sure she wasn't imagining things.

Inside that buffet-bearing bistro, his nods and raises as he took everything in. Bunch of people to sit aside an S-shaped conveyor belt, snug in foam-stuffed booths, picking and choosing as they pleased. Cuisines from every culture to move between aisles; could feel his mouth start to moisten.

His classic American burger and fries to seize, yet side-eye. Never saw it cooked, was the cheapest burger he knew for centuries, and he'd never seen anything so generous and so well-presented.

 _"Come on, has no-one heard of inflation? Ah, what the hell."_

First bite of the bun, a fine start of buttered bread. Most condiments next bite; an explosion of juices to prove them sweet and fresh. Finally, his go-for-broke chomp; a myriad melt of crisps, crunches and chews to meld in a sublime world of seasonings, of tender meats too.

Soft and golden as sunshine, the shoestring fries to soar his heart. All those age-old sauces before his eyes, and never a more generous portion he knew.

"Ohhh MAN, that's good… As a once titan of food might put it, everything and yes, a wedding ring."

Never quite caught his Captain's glare, nor twirl of her finger, as she picked at mashed potatoes, cut up the T-Bone to stretch from end to end. In between bites, under-table scans of his medical form; suspicions just from who signed it.

After a great swallow of cola, the rookie spoke up: "So ladies, how's downtime for you besides this?"

Her cut and chew of steak, almost taking the plate: "Well, whether hinted towards or harangued into it, adventures always find me." Swallow and new cut, subtle shakes of hands. "Other than that, music, TV or reading."

"Music huh? How so?"

"Hover-Disk, got plenty of albums."

"Sounds like some fancy-pants tech to me."

"20th-century record player, 31st-century spin… Ugh, your word games again!"

"Heh-heh, whoops. You know, I do remember records making a comeback, never to that extent though. Couldn't care for having thousands of songs wherever I walked, literally. Still wished I had such things on hand."

For several seconds, she turned her head: "Funny you mention that. There'd be times when we'd gather in the ship to watch a supernova in action. One such occasion, someone would microwave popcorn with the metal foil left in. Sent us barrelling into a time warp; frankly, I prefer it here."

Mayfield to clench fists, as a strong scent of brewed 'English Breakfast' wafted about. Amy's grab of teapot, his own glare as he watched her pour.

"Well aside from our first chat"—Amy began—"I try to make time for my boyfriend, or yes, even my parents sometimes. Simple Buggalo farmers who're too busy to visit, oh how I wish."

"Buggalo?"

"Giant, cowskin-shelled beetles produced for milk, one-man rowboats… And yes, even meat too."

Her eyes to that burger, his eyes to widen: "Whoa, whoa, so I've been eating insect meat this entire time?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Burger in hand, the kid cradled his chin, and shook his head: "To think I'd hear that and still call it a damn fine feed. By oath, I oughta be committed."

A small laugh between all before Leela looked to probe; curiosities aside from the main reasons.

"Gotta say, I never figured your first trip to be so special. How hopeless did the old life have to be?"

"You might've taken me in Captain, but forgive me for keeping my cards close. Can't forget our first."

"Oh Lord kid, how often must I say it? Just don't invite reminders, it's really that simple."

"Won't lie, I've wondered about that. Was wired to look, smell, just process everything. Still gotta question your chance on me, as a nobody to you."

"Because if our first night meant something, it was knowing I had to educate you. Don't know how easy you had it; consider Stumbos-4 your latest life lesson. Your choices as to how many more."

 _"Not these life lessons again…_ But guess that's us in a nutshell, isn't it? One wants what they've longed for, the other longs for what they'd had?"

"Alas kid, you have no idea… Why do you think I dedicated my life towards my captaincy?"

A question for which neither had an answer, as after a skyward look, she finished her steak plate and took two more to go. Their tummies full of tea and tasty meals, and Mayfield to scratch his beard as they strode out.

 _"Another angle I could work, if only I could move that doddery dimwit from his devices."_

Never saw the evil eye behind him; the mind behind it to realise that he had talked, breathed and walked right where she could see him. And that he passed the all-in-one medical equivalent of 'TARFU', 'FUBAR' and 'SNAFU' to try and cover himself.

 _"Son-of-a-bitch is hiding something, I'm sure of it… Be keeping a closer eye on him."_

Small backslaps for Amy for stinging him good, now her own orders to be double-sure.


	13. Backdoor Politics (NEW)

Whole crew had to kick the floor, for sighting that 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign.

Legal means of return locked down tight, to cross all their fingers the Professor's high-pitched bursts of mirth. That they'd hear and believe beyond those doors, his mad experiments in full swing again.

 _"Black holes in a box?"_

 _"Oh please kid… He only threatens cities & worlds, not entire universes."_

 _"And that's any—"_

 _"Maybe it's a side thing, how 'bout a Why n' Where Machine?"_

Caring nothing for any theory, or any concern of crew's, Leela would rap those knuckles anyway. No response. A thundering of fists across the wood, again no answer. Hermes to pass through and scold them for not reading, before she'd shrug and stride for the lobby again.

"Well, s'pose I'll head off and work out alone, as is the norm for me."

"Can never tell what goes through his head… Oh well, little R&R never hurt."

The crew to wave Leela off, Amy to take the side lift, and Mayfield to ram his shoes into the wall. That one person he needed, again caught in their own world, and him losing chances by the minute.

 _"Gotta be an easier way."_

No city-walk to clear his head, especially to walk about and find his back wall boarded up. Thought the library's peace could offer ideas; started to make moves when a sudden voice and scattered rubbish halted his steps.

"Thomas, my friend! Have you seen all the barnacles on my tuchus today?"

"Oh no, no no no no no…"

Couldn't wave his hands enough, before he'd taste burger, potatoes and soda again. Crab to drop his slacks; worlds of blackened craters and Vesuvius bumps, all over pink, flab-folded shell.

"Ugh, urrp, ooohhh… Did I ask to see ANY of that, you dropkick?"

"I never heard a no…"

Readied to chew him out, until a sudden finger-snap moment. "Dunno what you heard then, but maybe you won't hear Hermes' yell for, I'd think, a small favour?"

A whisper to see those boards smashed to splinters; gladdened for his Captain's advice, he'd send that doc back to the dumpster. Through the near-empty hangar and, to piss him off quick, soon up close.

The chief would be fast asleep, those deep dreams the reason behind his cackles. A beaker to bubble in hand; kid's careful pluck to set it aside, before his lips would hover right outside Farnsworth's ear.

 _"Pack your shit and get out, Professor… We've been foreclosed on."_

Throat trembling, the big boss would flail his hands ready for a fight.

"You'll take this lab from my cold, dead—Mayweather?"

"Who else?"

On came the glasses: "Can't a drooling moron as yourself read? And dear Lucifer, where'd my beaker go?! That could damn well level a city block."

"Relax, I found a tube rack for it. And of course I can read, what I can't comprehend is why you'd stop us from doing the jobs YOU hired us for. Forget your beauty sleep, you missed that boat by at least a century."

"Yes, yes. You sound like my captain, What's-Her-Name… Well I'm awake, and I've got things to invent, so make it quick Maybelline."

Mayfield to purse lips and shed tears, before a barrage of belly ruptures dropped him to the floor. Several breaths until he stood straight, the big boss not amused for that show.

"Don't bullshit me mate, you were catching more Zs than dollar signs! Besides, bet this 'busywork' is your go-to excuse to avoid people, avoid responsibilities more to the point."

"Language, and you know that's false. If you weren't so rude, I'd scrounge a minute or two. Though perhaps… What did you want to chat about?"

A sudden honey in voice, his pat on the cheek. Given both his will and zeal to write them off, Mayfield could bet his life on blackmail…

"Yeah-huh, hands off. Look, straight to brass tacks. There's some big dreams I hope to accomplish, you're the man to make them happen, and I've a deal to propose. Get me?"

First time in a century or two, for Professor to be bent over laughing.

"A Stupid Ages smart-mouth, here half a day, planning on taking over the business? This HQ's been my baby for over FORTY years… what game are you playing child?!"

"I doubt I'd do worse, but DID I mention leadership spills? It's simple. I'm asking you to rig my life's game. In return, I'll share all my spoils. Straight shot is that I'm just after a stable job; see you sleeping, have such downtime… Are you the deadbeat dad then, if you call this your baby?"

Had to marvel for the oldest man alive; youthful lunge forward to seize his shirt. Sinister ideas to still consume him, or criticisms to curl his lips.

"I'll give you stable, you little bastard! Get on your hands & knees, and beg for both job & life."

"One, I rest my case. Two, I'll do no such thing. And three, did you even hear a word of mine?"

"NOOOOO!"

Bit of spittle to hit his face; wiped it awayas he took time prising those hands off.

"Don't hurt yourself. Handshake would kill you if I willed it. You know, maybe this baby comparison's rather apt, since you've stayed stuck here all this time."

"So, what of it?!"

"You stink as our leader, but it's your scientific acumen I'm after. Bite-sized version? Me? Worker. Want? Money. Need? Job. Idea? Biiiiig." Professor to cross arms, child-like gestures to have him fume. "Got a chance to talk?"

"Oh very well, what do you want?"

"Okay, get this…"

By finger or foot, Professor would tap away his patience while the kid concocted his plan. To none of their notice however, Leela's ears would lie on the conference floor, pieces heard from the combo of coincidences to the need to cover it up. Seemed she'd taken the lift, outside the kid's view.

Her hiss of _"What are you up to?"_ as Professor—despite hums and chin-rubs—cut his new hire off.

"I've spent a lifetime using hard data, hypothesis and double-blind reviews… You think I'm gonna believe in miracles now?"

"Been nothing BUT to keep you all alive. Look, for first hearing it here, I'd agree 100%. But against your belief, I stand as perfect proof of what it offers… That's an opportunity I WON'T let slip."

Arguments to trade back & forth, as Leela soon used her vantage to track her charge. Fear of secrets breaking free, to have her hear enough.

"Ooooh, get to the point! I won't spend the rest of my days in the Angry Dome, damn you!"

"You insist that it's mere fantasy, a waste of time? That's your call to make, but you've my word that we'll be back in Boomtown, and quite beyond, if you actually can help me."

"How so, wise-aleck?"

"Dusty old project or no, I don't know nor care. But consider our advantage, for a sec… Super-powered deliveries, second we open to second we close. Imagine the opportunities to come, the means we'd get to not only do our jobs, but to expand your empire and fund your research too… Daresay, put the 'Prof' in profit… We on the same page here?"

A last pitch to stammer Farnsworth, the curveball to falter his words. A sigh and shake of the new hire's hand; could no longer deny the dangers of losing his life's work, of dying alone in the streets.

"Oh confound you, fine. You bring that cream, and I'll get to work. Now leave me alone!"

"Thanks Farnsey, appreciate ya."

"That's Professor to you, and don't you EVER forget that."

Leela to make moves for seeing the close of conversation; splash of water on face & clothes, a sprint for the lift, and a race to reach the lobby first. Eye like an eagle on that lab door, impressions of her own soon to paint.

The double doors to open, and her moment to sprint his way and call out. 'Sweat' to drip everywhere, as she got a good pant going.

"Oh hey Leela, how'd your workout go?"

"Captain, remember? Otherwise, so great I could go again."

"Is that so? You sure you're not gonna tire out?"

"Quite certain. Listen, could you follow me?"

A squint of sorts for the unusual request, should've been soaked for such workouts, but not to leave behind all those wet trails. Such odours should've churned his stomach, and yet, the air around him was fresh.

"To see you keep in shape, over my sitting 'round? Sounds quite fine Captain, lead the way."

Her order given and heeded, to soon reveal to him that workout haven of hers. Special corner of the hangar; few free weights, a heavy bag, sets of jump ropes, and even self-wrapping tape & fight gloves among the usuals.

"Behind the heavy bag, get a good hold on it."

Obliging nod but for a cock of eyebrow, as she'd stick something on and begin to pound away. Still an art-form in her roundhouse; how she turned her hips, raised those knees, and whip-cracked those feet. Echoing thumps of leather, as the force sent the kid stumbling left & right.

Memories to sting his eyes, of older brother and first nights both. Obvious flinches, as they came closer to taking his head off.

"Did want to see me, right ma'am? Figure I'm not gonna stare at fancy footwork all afternoon."

"You'd do well to remember it though. Now, I'd like an opinion on that form of yours, your doctor to sign off on it."

The roundhouse routine to end, the head hooks and body shots to begin: "What did I tell you about Dr. Zoidberg? I made it clear that he was a complete liability, did you think I exaggerated at all?"

"Uhhh, he means well? Too early for me to judge."

"Does he now? Form told me he fixed your back & lungs, via a red-&-blue syringe… Correct?"

"Yeeeessss, that's what he wrote… Is it strange that I heard no sound, after I copped the stab?"

"Not at all. Those syringes cured your head just fine— _can test that right now—_ but they're useless against all else. Nanobots inside weren't coded for that job."

Cheeks flushed good & red, Mayfield knew why she ordered him behind the bag now.

"Oh, right."

"So no doctor nor syringe to cure you, yet here you stand, alive & well… The floor's yours, pal."

No such luxury to address her on his own terms, to leave Mayfield squirming.

"All due respect Captain, don't you think we oughta take all the help we can get?"

"I'd agree, but there are, let's say, boundaries one shouldn't cross." Jabs & straights, could see knuckles like stones. "Call me crazy, but ain't it convenient how a 'mystery' stranger outshines the professionals? Especially when all we had was a dying delivery boy?"

The kid's body to curl, clench or shake… Veins to throb, and no chance to walk away.

"Captain, my duty's to deliver. And I'd do anything, given where I've been, to get the job done."

She'd poke an evil eye from offside, as she'd grapple and aim some knee attacks.

"Did you forget, kid, that I share such burdens too? Not only that, but also my burden of checking on CREW? An honest call-out's all I ask for, could've been two grown adults talking things out."

Though convinced that his Captain didn't get it, kid knew he made a sloppy mess in covering up.

"I had neither breath nor call-out to give, and you thought we could TALK? Every Gods' sake, even for seeing me I'd be left behind. Figured I'd enjoy a final meal, but would crawl and slide over some cold metal. Four-digit number on the handle; think I'd expect the access code?"

Leela could feel her teeth start to grind. The story she believed she'd predict, now taking a twist ending she DIDN'T like.

"Who the fuck do you think I am, boss? You saved my life, think I'd repay that by screwing you? Here's a crazy idea… Before you accuse me of wrongdoing, maybe share your secrets or stories so I CAN correct myself!"

Her only reply a push kick to lunge into the bag, one that'd wind and drop him to a knee.

Her message sent, never as clear as now, she'd depart with only a glare. Mayfield to clutch those tender guts, roar and punch the bag himself, only to hurt his hand.

 _"Without that cream, we'd have all begged to die… Did she forget what brought me here, screaming by her apartment? What made her think I'd aim to repeat all that?"_

Soon his move for the lounge, unaware that Leela had been privy to his moves the entire while. Her smile for what she'd stick to the bag, from samples she'd take of him.

A blown-up headshot from his profile, where two bloody crosses would sit underneath.


	14. Ugly Choices (NEW)

Had you've asked Captain Leela, she had every assurance that the new hire was a human snake.

Sneaky games and future plans to ensure as such, and her smog of suspicion to order him in her sight at all times. Not even Solar System deliveries—ten minutes tops without miracles—to loosen that leash.

Her tactics throughout the week to tremble Mayfield in her presence, if not create sunburn for flashes of the old life. Always fears of retaliation, to have him mutter little more than "Yes, ma'am", and fears of laying waste to all out of eruption, only for flicks of paper to put the brakes on.

 _"Almost five hundred this week? Not good, but not hopeless either…"_

Cash stuffed in pocket, he was just about to leave for some solitude when the Professor would call out. Unkempt corner to meet, everyone else well on their way home, and a clap of shoulders once they came face-to-face.

"Just us two now, right young man?"

"Won't be for long, but since I'm here… Something the matter?"

"Did you really have to ask? Daresay it's time you proved your words, and your worth, to me."

"Off the clock, so no can—"

"My roof, so my rules child."

"You're kidding, not even a weekend to wind down? Screw this, I'm going."

"Go ahead and take your leave, got the boys in blue on speed-dial anyway."

A smirk to hear "Oh go to hell!" before they'd stand and face each other again.

"So a Captain to threaten me, and now you to blackmail me… What do you propose?"

"I propose it's not my problem now… It's yours."

Jangles of metal as Professor fiddled through coat pockets, soon palming keys in the kid's hand. A straight point to the starship, following words of his special—perhaps wicked—exception to policy.

"If I don't get them and that cream by Monday roll call, you can kiss your keister goodbye. No guesses needed as to how, I'm sure… So, as you kids would say, you down?"

A sneer for obvious fakery, a gulp for what laid ahead, all he had. Battle between bosses; one who'd skin him alive, one who'd hardly blink to be rid of him. A release of bridge stairs, again curses for the Professor and his latest deal of 'survive now, worry later.'

Search began in his cabin's safe; alarm yet resignation for finding no miracles inside. No powers to enjoy as he'd comb through cupboard and countertop, bridge to bottom deck, with the stars well out by the time he left. Only empty, wrung hands to offer, before he'd crash upon the couch.

The whole of Saturday to scour the entire headquarters; lobby to lounge, as well as attic, basement and boiler room to avoid recall. But beyond the beakers, big scopes, creepy undergrounds and diaper-clad creatures, there'd be no miraculous trace to find.

Sunday to search both ship and HQ again, and all but surrender when his hands remained empty. Death sentence now etched for good, he'd begin for the locker room, head bowed and fighting tears.

 _"Clear they never cared for me, so fuck them all. Bankrupt the lot of 'em, by Oath."_

Plans to begin from the shower, before he'd spot sitting upon the wooden bench that Miracle Cream. Most obvious place, more so for the Toblerone-shaped 'READ ME' card next to it. A frown to pique, for his scan:

* * *

 **Got eyes on you kid, so cut corners at your consequence… The choice is yours.**

 **\- L**

* * *

No doubt he knew that initial, still it'd be a situation to sit him down, fist under chin, taking his time.

 _"Course she'd want it exclusive for herself. Who to piss off least, though?"_

The chief to offer a job and temporary home, but only for the Captain's suggestion. The founder to care nothing about him or his growth, while the evolver would sacrifice holidays to smarten him up. The both to obsess over their own pursuits, but she to save the business and his job in doing so. And then there'd be her moments of kindness against, at best, his indifference.

The choice would've been obvious, but a Plan C had him slap the bench, eyes perk right up.

He grabbed the cream and left it on top of Leela's locker, sliding it just out of view. A shake of the head directly towards the camera, before he'd find that chief STILL experimenting. To see keys tight in hand, yet no cream, was to hear him tut.

"A shame to see you don't value this life, Mayweather. But still, you've got a few hours."

"Leela left it on her locker, much too high to reach. Maybe you've got something to do your dirty work?"

"Hmm, for mentioning it I just might. S'pose my Fing-longer could poke and slide it in my hands… You may go."

 _"Yeah, screw you and your lack of thanks."_

Quarter past eleven before his feet slugged into the lounge, little snack in hand as he prepped to lie down. No fried necks required, but a growl nonetheless for that familiar yell to ring in his ears.

"Oh Gods-damn-you, mind picking a better time to meet up?"

"Negative. So, how's your first week been?"

"Decent money, damned pain to earn it. Can't get used to anything 'round here, also gone and made cut snakes of my bosses. Wager I'll be done for in a matter of weeks, so buzz off and allow me the peace, Puke Eyestalker."

"Lord Nibbler, and that's where you're wrong friend. Word about HQ says they're fighting over your miracle."

"Hell did you know? But yes, to somehow raise me from the dead and give superpowers too, a tube of Miracle Cream. No better rush I've known, and I speak from years of experience."

"Hmm hmm, no argument here. So, how have you come to use it, thus far?"

"Be lying to say I wouldn't steal it, though now I've got both bosses breathing down my neck. For now I've directed Farnsworth to it, hoping he at least tries to save our jobs… Maybe grow and evolve our company, too. Course, Leela's out there thinking I'm gonna screw her, and—"

"Why do you think that is?"

"How should I know, it's not like she told—"

"WHY do you think that is?"

The kid to raise arms & flinch: "Easy, back off! I don't know her story, and when it's only been arguments, orders, threats, violence and stupid games, chances are I'll never open that book."

Nibbler to cross legs, touch thumbs and pointers to either side: "When doing so was to cost her, why'd you believe she'd turn a blind eye forever?"

"Am I so much a problem that she's gotta treat me like one? Come on, have you READ this thing she wrote?" He'd try to pass the card, only for Nibbler to refuse. "Right, little big for you. Not that it matters; good as dog meat either way."

"Anything else you found in that safe, besides the superpower cream?"

"Old photos of my 'landlords.' But, just this once, can I get a straight answer? You ask that I see her eyes-to-eye when all she does is eyeball me, even while I'm taking a PISS. Gave me her rope to climb my cliff, yet these days, feel she's ready to hang me from it. You tell me, Your Furriness… How can I trust that?"

"You can start by revealing everything, and I mean EVERYTHING. I've no need, I hope, to reveal the minefield she's become. There'll be no question that she'll explode; you just might reduce the impact for taking the time to talk… To listen, to learn beyond her words. Almost can't think of a greater set of miracles."

"Heavens above, you're useless… Goodnight and get lost."

"The world doesn't give answers on a plate, and neither will I. Pleasant dreams, Mayfield."

Another flash as the creature hopped down and out, before the charge's head thudded on the couch, mumbles into the cushions.

 _"Keeps her cards so close, may as well have swallowed them. Screw the chit-chat, I've a role to play."_

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Temptation games over the weekend, to have the Captain come back at the crack of midnight.

Quiet tube rides and shadowy tiptoes inside HQ, her beeline for conference as both the kid's suspicions and his confessions swam through her mind. Right or wrong, a real need to kill this curiosity, take 'overtime' to thumb through the kid's videotapes.

Her swift scramble and hiss to mute the volume, a check to see that no-one had woken up, and then a kick-off of boots to settle in.

 _"Sure I gave them a good wash… Besides, not like the Professor would ever know."_

Through her delegation, and this first tape now playing, she had sent Amy to have a chat. Only to find it had proven inconclusive; things were well-hushed, lips couldn't be read, and there'd been no secret signs to exchange.

The second tape of both charge and chief, one to bring out her coercion via heavy bag.

 _"Why would Professor want in too? Kid can't have roped HIM in, could he?"_

A gasp to confirm otherwise when, for watching the third tape, she'd see HER keys in the kid's hand. Same ones that, to her everyday disgust, the Professor would swallow and bring up.

 _"How did you get such privileges, you—"_

Smirks and stifled laughs soon after; twisted pleasure to see him waste that weekend, when she kept it home almost the whole time. Could only imagine the clean-up to follow, as she'd check the fourth and final tape.

Their moment of truth as he'd grab the note and her prize, as she'd massage her knuckles ready to re-educate him. Ceasefire only called to see her cream placed atop her locker, just a shake of head before the cassette would mutilate its tape.

A world of mutters as she'd hear footsteps; satisfied for having no problems, she'd strap her boots and sprint for the exits.

 _"Seems you value your life after all, kid… Good choice."_

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Besides the usual toss, turn & tumble, his spring in cold sweats to hear such a disturbance.

 _"Ugh, for the love of… Two in the morning? Swear if that bloody Professor's in his lab again…"_

A smell of rotten cheese to perplex and piss him off, while grabbing a glass of water for the lift. Time to crawl before the crunch of metal echoed under his feet; Widow's Walk where he'd eye off the Business District, and take in the starlight.

Should've been the happiest refugee alive, to achieve and combine those worlds of adventure, potential, and tolerance. More so for remembering first nights, even besides his nightcaps.

Yet for that city, and this time he'd never call home, the smiles would evade him. Of the only people he ever loved, all he could see of them had laid among the stars…

There'd be his Dad, once a dreamer of riding the rails to deliver packages. To imagine what he'd say for sailing the stars, it'd quiver his lips. Soon found his Mum, the glue of the clan, who might've beamed to see him shine again. Glimpse of his brother, problems of yesteryears to turn his eyes away.

Portraits to grip the railing and bow his head. All sorts of fantasies swirling in mind, yet acceptance that they'd long grown worthless…

"How should I start? No secret that I've blackened the clan; been a wayward son, heavy for a brother. Such sound and fury for what I'd promise, yet my tale would signify nothing."

The droplets to disappear for the sidewalk, as he patted his chest and pointed to the skies.

"But mark me mates, I shall not remain as this little boy any longer. No more will I pox our legacy, and if you can't be there, then please be at peace. Please… _Please._ "

Long-overdue tribute to ease his mind a little, might've had sweeter dreams had he, in that moment, not encountered an experiment to somehow get loose. What might've been a mummy raised from a tomb, to have him ready to scream.

"Now, now Mayfair, no need to worry… Just ."

Wrinklier than a hundred Shar-Peis, none other than the chief himself. The wind to flop several bits, those to send the kid over the rail and soon without his lunch. A suspiciously clean sidewalk, sounds of scuttles, to almost have him go for seconds.

"What the serious fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Language, and thought I'd pay you back for squandering my precious time. Call it a bonus to shred your innocence too."

A rippling snort, to send him to the rail: "Primitive or no, Rip Van Wrinkle, I've seen my share of sleaze. Just wished I'd never see certain 'bodies' naked. Now go melt into a puddle, I've got work to get up for."

"I look like a witch to you? I'm the Professor, case you forgot, and in saying that I believe I've created something for your stupid fantasies. All it needs is a test… Shall I see you at the lab?"

"Okay, that fast? Your knack for inventing's clear, but even I find that impossible."

"You'd be amazed how money, and a story, can motivate a man."

Mayfield didn't care to carry a corpse, so for half an hour, he'd fight sleep until the Professor would dress up, grip the sheet and strike a sweeping pose.

"Move over Dolly, I shall clone a greater creation than thee!"

Sheet ripped off to reveal a giant black box on wheels, one to feature a conveyor belt, scanner unit, and various bits and bobs wired up inside or to a computer screen. Leagues more complicated than most novels could narrate, but for Mayfield, an impressed nod for what laid ahead.

"My goodness big brains, now we might be talking… Well, I'm waiting, give me the tour."

"So simple even you can use it," as The Professor began pointing. "Insert any item into this scanner here. This screen, and this handle, can select how many copies you desire. This green button will begin the process. And thanks to the miracles of modern science, any perfect copies of ANY item will end up on this belt."

"How long had you been working on this?"

"Been on the shelf about a year, piece by piece; completing those deliveries afforded me the chance to finish it off."

 _"Huh, now that makes more sense…_ Okay, just so I don't start slapping buttons, what should I know?"

"Nothing of concern, not at all… Wait, two things actually. One, you're only allowed a single item at a time, to be LOST in the process of scanning. So give yourself a raise, just not a ransom, get me?"

"Believe I'm with ya, anything else?"

"Number two, and most important, there's a twenty-four hour wait per instant copy produced."

The kid scratched his head: "So say I create, I dunno, a hundred of those creams… They'd come altogether, but we'd need to wait three MONTHS and change to use it again?"

"Precisely, so be careful."

"Well now…" Couldn't help but pace around: "As if that didn't complicate matters already."

"Oh balderdash! Must I create you some cave paintings?"

"No no Professor, it's more the life-and-death I'm concerned about. Captain thinks I've been hired to screw her; sadly, I haven't helped my case."

"And how's this machine gonna help?"

"To prove my gratitude, for starters. Course, it's by how much that concerns me. Too low, I'll give the wrong impression and come back as a cadaver. Too high, and I'm sure we'll attract attention. Gods forbid Mom gets word of this, when she almost vaporised me for staring at some HQ of hers."

"Hmmm, don't blame you. Less aware that dragon-breathed dame is, the better."

"Preach, chief… I'm feeling lucky, so how 'bout seven to start with? If I can test three and prove they work, then she can get four and everybody should be happy."

The thick green tube, indeed in Professor's grasp, would soon vanish upon both their nods. As the machine began to prep the properties, ingredients, labels & warnings, Farnsworth gripped the handle, mind in great focus. Either waxed floors or spilt beaker to slip him over; by the time he got propped up, the screen would show seven THOUSAND copies instead.

 _"A What-If for another time…_ Oopsy-days, let's just correct this here."

HQ's wishful gold mine to soon start sliding, quick grabs to inspect them as soft thumps had them hit the floor. For finding no mislabels, no crooked text, not even a mark or mysterious glyph out of place, Mayfield would admit to a slow rub and grin, of being seduced by Professor's efforts.

 _"You're our ticket to caviar dreams… Hmm hmm, precious. I'll test this in the morning, but you_ might've outdone yourself Farnsey. _"_

"It's Farnsworth you nitwit! Now pay back my faith in kind."

"Bet your wrinkled arse I will, should this work… Until then, hooroo and pleasant dreams."

Collecting them all, and picking his jeans to work around demands, he soon returned to the lounge, fluffed up his cushion, and drifted back to sleep.

True as he laid there, smile over his face, he had their secret weapons locked and loaded.


	15. Judge, Jury, Executioner (NEW)

A roar to awaken the entire state, once his first cream of the copies seeped into skin.

Rising early for his latest test, Mayfield knew he had apologies to give for doubting Amy's word, causing the Captain's stress, and for his attitude in general. Course, took just a few blinks to 180 on the whole thing.

 _"Why waste words, when I have my sources now? My service shall speak for me, from here on."_

Grins and confidence so contagious it'd attract Leela's attention, her concerns that he lied about replacing her cream. No answer save for shaking his head; dared not mention last night as they blasted off for new adventures.

Cargo thieves still as chaotic and common a gamble, yet it'd be the rookie to master the house. As he pleased he'd disarm, distract, and disrespect the good ship's threats, pleasures taken to dismiss those disasters in waiting.

Ladies to break and lead such shells to the airlock; day's end taken to 'bless their SOLs.' Captain and crew's last destination, parting words of "Shit outta luck", and button slaps to empty them of the trash.

All to earn Dame Fortune's blessings, and boy, did she ever pay out as days came to pass…

Kid ordered away from Noumel-13's 'building materials'; no idea why until the scents of rich chocolate raced him for the cargo bay. Leela to spring from her seat for seeing him crack the ground and stuff his face, soon her shove of him to draw his notice.

"Gods-damnit, did you even check any of this? How do you know it's safe to eat?"

"Hell do I care, Captain? Was happy to create my own cream filling, 'till you came along."

Couldn't care for anything else—much less his orders—once he'd take his detours of topping streams, ice-cream mazes and candied palaces. Even Leela's broken-knee threats to fall on deaf ears, as they'd offer their final gift. Chocolate bar, its size one he could gorge himself on for weeks.

Started to ask about citizenship forms, only for elbowed ribs to point out the sharpened knives, signals to the cooks, and the Mellians' advance.

His scream of "WAIT!" before he begged to 'marinate' himself; careful grip and slather of his copy before he'd lift that chocolate bar, board the Captain on top, and grind up cocoa powder in leaving them behind. An escape to almost lose them both; her gritted thanks before they set off.

His time alone to break down and cool off his gift, as both Mercury and HG's Fuel swung into their sights. Leela's orders about their gas and goodies, aboard the cargo bay, when the platform began to release…

"Stop Mayfield, stop, STOP! Did I say you could descend us?"

"Come on, it's just a gas station. What's the big—"

"Then YOU sign this delivery, and don't come back 'till you do!"

The ladies to dodge for the bridge; blast of heat could melt a shed as Mayfield learned about filling the tankers, helped stock the shelves, and signed off as promised. All arguments forgotten it seemed, as they'd reach the Moon and Luna Park next.

Snack bars topped up, and Captain's order of downtime to cool any tempers. Chances to enjoy the arcade, groan for the gophers, finger-snap to Moon Street, or for Mayfield, give silent wails against those 'whalers.'

Fears for Don McLean's prophecy, in the centuries since, before they'd finish a request from Symphonia-9. Delivery of a dozen oboe-like space oddities—Holophonors apparently—to come with either tips or a Symphod. Ladies to take the money, and to hear of what his gift did and all it could play, the kid sold good on the music.

Couldn't be more floored to hear his favourites, course, could've fell through for the Waldorf job.

Exceptional Ming vases for one Mrs. Astor; though he'd see her nostrils exclusively, she'd crack a rare smile for the speed and care. A slap of palms to make jelly of his legs, to have him bow his head in thanks. Still pinched his nose as he split crew shares, up the cargo bay and en route to the bridge.

 _"Son-of-a-bitch, twenty-five hundred DOLLARS?! Even a month of calls couldn't—"_

"Yeah right kid… Come on, hand our shares over!"

"No way Captain… How 'bout you close your eye, and I'll readjust my pants instead?"

"I don't take orders from you pal, so don't—"

"I know, but listen for once. Family honour, no funny games here."

A roll of eye as she held her hand out; frowned no longer once she saw what thudded her palm. Thumb lick and rapid flick, to send her backwards into her chair.

"T-t-t-that's fifteen GRAND in my palm… You sure that's mine, that you didn't steal it?"

"You wanna ask the madam herself? Stupid Ages or not Captain, can say I know my numbers."

Could only choose to drive them home, shaken head for the crew's cheers around her. Bad vibes to hover again; for customer after customer, she'd wait longer for the rookie of late.

 _"Why all these requests? Swore those things spat acid at us… Now when did he crawl back our way?"_

Soon would overshadow even her good fortunes; couldn't smile as she shuffled her logs and watched her old girl get reinforced. No words to say, for running hands over such sparkling equipment. To witness this phoenix act was to convince her of an inside job.

For the kid, he'd suspect that his gratitude was now as good as paid.

Promotions and celebrations during the end-of-day meeting, couldn't allow herself to join in. Especially not for her chief's shoulder clap, words to snap her straight to attention…

 _"Our 'greatest' miracle, huh?_ If everyone'll excuse me. _"_

Her heart to tremor as one-by-one, her colleagues would bid her goodnight. Only her nod as she waited, her charge's smile to shiver her as he opened up and fiddled about. Eye could turn one to stone, as he checked for everything in place, and she leaned against her locker…

"Just us two now, right kid?"

"Something the problem, Captain?" Familiar words to wipe his smile.

"Would you like one? If not, leave your things, and come with me."

"Cool, I'll just tidy up and—"

"Kid, won't say this again… Right. Now."

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 _"The hell did I do now… SOMEONE had to clue her in, right?"_

The closing times and lack of witnesses to pale his face, as he trailed behind the Captain towards the basement. Creaky door to stiffen his spine, her grit of _"Gods help you if you leave"_ to chatter his teeth.

Chaise lounges and all, he kicked himself for not knowing of this place. His solitude right at home; hands to curve the shelves, eyes to swing for that pendulum, fingers to spark off that bastard sword… Little chance to explore further upon Leela's return, pot of tea and cookies in hands.

A breath before her finger met his lips, as she'd point for the lounge, and place her tea set down without a word.

"I'm sure you can gather why we're here."

"Uhhhh, never knew 'bout this, so—"

A pour for her cup: "Let me enlighten you. Forget any library, this is our accusing parlour."

"Wait, what? But all these books, the lounges, the fireplace… Hell's going on?"

She'd move to scroll the shelves, an "Ah!" given for finding her journal. To keep her calm façade, a mystery unto itself, as she sat beside him.

"So… Ever since your stupid word games and end lockers you have, above almost anyone I've known, become a better crewman. I should be glad, yet it's the question of how that's bothered me."

 _"I can see where this is going…"_

"Oh, can you? Can you tell me, say, how we succeeded on Stumbos-4? First day, no equipment, high gravity, you dying—"

"Listen, if it's about that damned—"

"DON'T interrupt me! Thanks for the reminder though; how CAN you do that? Hell, how can you walk, deliver, eat, do anything else, without proper evidence of proof?"

He'd be left wordless, over the fresh wave of dread.

"Noumel-13; how 'bout those Mellians, huh? We were good for feast meat, but oh, moments after you 'marinated', you towed both your bar AND me to safety. Quite the rescue I'd think, yet come time to claim your prize, you couldn't lift a single piece to eat. I mean, not to belabour it, but you put in actual requests for our help."

"Okay Cap, if you want me to clarify—"

"How dare you… I'm your boss and I give your permission to speak, UNDERSTAND?!"

 _"Yes, ma'am."_ Hands stuffed in jeans, head to droop as she cleared her throat again.

"Mercury's surface now… Pray tell, please, why you fancied us getting third-degree sunburn? Or more to the point, how you survived it for so long?"

Not a word to say, as she gulped down her tea and glowered over the rim.

"Did you think I was stupid, that I'd never see you slip up? That all my tests, surveillance and accounts wouldn't figure you out?" Her stand over him, to send him scooching backwards. "Just so I understand, is it true that all you did was LIE to me?!"

All he could do was squeak: "Dammit, about what? Did no-one tell you, that I—"

The sudden realisation to silence him, send his eyes anywhere but her own.

"Starting to click, kid?"

His sigh, then a sudden idea: "If you'll excuse me, for a—"

"Move a single hair, I'll dedicate my life to showing you what losing family's like."

A quick run of options, to curl his frame into a ball. Kill her and they'd fire him twice; job & Sunward. Try to run away, she'd ensure a hunted man out of him. Knock her out, same thing if she came to. And if she found his family before him…

"So, here's how it's gonna be. I'll bet your life that on you, right this second, you've got some Miracle Cream. And to prove me wrong, you'll get just three seconds before I rip you apart. One…"

"Captain, you can walk beside me at your request, I swear I'll let you in on everything."

"Two."

"For Christ's sake, just listen! You dug me outta that ditch, so let me gift what you deserve."

Without warning he'd break away and burst through the parlour door, dust to scatter as she stood still. Knew from his huffs and sprints that he powered down, didn't even make the end of the hallway.

Just took a brisk walk, fists at her side as he rounded a corner. She'd find him, for only she knew the way out…

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Cramps in his legs, lungs to burn his chest, head to swim as he grew desperate to hide.

Mayfield to reach the end door and open it, only to face yet another hallway of doors. Just broom closets and empty offices to reveal, the final door to reveal both a staircase, and one pissed-off Captain.

Could only wave hands in surrender before she'd unleash a lunging push kick, no heavy bag this time to save his guts.

"You leaving so soon?"

As he coughed and rolled about, she'd stomp his ankle, a smile to hear him scream as she dragged him down stairs and back towards the parlour. Those arms scrambling for any jamb or jut of wall, but as her face made skate rinks of Hell's bowels, she'd fling him inside and lock those three handles behind her.

Could've stripped his skin for taking his jeans off, as she discovered the truth she knew all along. Now far too limp for even humdrum heroics, her only tube of cream…

 _"Can be no doubt now, to what that cockroach hoped to achieve…"_

A boot to drop her crawling charge down, as she rubbed knuckles over his head. Still as solid as stone, as he tried to grit his teeth:

 _"Go after them if you must… Please, just let me clear up this matter!"_

"About time my friends received their justice, from the little boy to take them away…"

 _"The hell… Your friends? You never told me a damn thing about them!"_

"Doesn't matter anymore. In time, may I forgive you… Now get up, quit making me wait."

His body she'd circle as he came to kneel; flashes of fists and flights of knees to ground him once again. Cheeks to balloon and chin to crack once more, as he gave only blubbers for mercy.

 _"Ohhhh noooo, of all times to lose my voice…"_

"Get up and get a smack-down, or stay down to be PUT down."

Tried to spin and use his good foot to stand level, only to find that patella shattered inward. Her stare to corrode bodies, before she stomped over and crushed his right hand.

"That's been your game the entire time? To help yourself at my expense, to replace my only friends?"

Only fresh tears to give, but not enough to stop her shirt-grab.

"ANSWER ME!"

Tried to create some kind of sign language; a point to himself, then his ass, then to her, and then an imitation of climbing. Her response to grab his throat, raise him up, and slam him against a bookshelf.

"Gonna talk in charades, buddy? You think that's smart, when you damn well snatched my miracles away? Do you deny the fact, that since you got hired, all you've done was try to screw me?"

Most vigorous nod he could give, before he mimed an electronic press of buttons. Could impose a drag-along, if she had to.

"For the last time, no. I'm done suffering your tricks. I'm done holding my hand out. And frankly, I'm done with you."

Slammed his head to drop him, before taking a look from shelf to shelf. Large volume soon gripped in hands, all as the kid tried to prop himself up. His failure to bare her teeth, as she raised it over her head.

"Time you had some life lessons to learn."

Solid book to beat across his head; five pounds easy, and a cut made to spurt all over the floor, over her hands & clothes. Book tossed aside to whip-crack her boot; face to bust open as she moved back for the tea set.

Five minutes to ruin him, yet she gave herself all the time in the world…

"Want some tea? I've prepped it extra hot, just for you."

Steam to scald the air, as she'd pour the pot over his face. Akin to molten gold; scoring, bloodied skin to form as he'd force out more screams. The porcelain to break over his face, before she stared to the sword, fireplace or elsewhere. Could still see him squirm around, perhaps his defiance to explain how he kept alive somehow.

Her eye would eventually rest on the marble bust; Washington Monument, to commemorate perhaps their greatest President. Just like him, she'd think, she was going to put her Benedict to trial.

A heave and swing straight into his tee, her final yell of "Fore!" before she squatted over that carcass. Wasn't any doctor she knew, but to survey the damage, she'd almost bet one-to-one on burying a body.

 _"Ah, think I've had my fill now… Any last words?"_

Shaken finger at her, a shaken thumb to him, and a mimed tick before he'd share a wrathful crease of eyes. His dare to make it official, to go unheeded as she rose up, unlocked the handles, and left him there.

Strange serenity as she floated through the hallways, so numb to all around her that she didn't see her chief count his bundles of cash above her. Out the hole, into the night, and only then did it hit her.

Not even Zoidberg's scuttle to stir any sense, as her feet flew from HQ as fast, and as far away, as possible. Shove asides of anybody in her way, for those not wise enough to scurry, until she fell and sank to her knees above the rinks of Central Park.

Scared the skaters enough to see her coated from head to toe, but to hear her scream pierce the skies, they couldn't slip or leave fast enough. Blind rage somehow no obstacle to finding home; down rained the plaster once she beat solid holes through her walls.

Yet for all the tears, bruised knuckles and burning skulls, she could no longer deny that her closest friends were gone for good. Visions of Fry and Bender before her, to soon become dust as those beautiful memories would flash by.

And all because of her former charge, the stranger she should've left crumbling in Cookieville.


	16. Calm Before the Storm

Within walls and behind curtains of Taco Bellevue, they had no idea what fuelled his desire to live.

Observers—doctors & staff—could only call themselves lucky and thankful for centuries of medical advances, when they shielded their patient from harsh lights, roused them towards steady beeps, and alerted them of where they rested.

Axe them questions on how they'd end up here, take notes while they tried to jury rig that jigsaw back together.

Sights of responders who freaked out at first, before seeing their entire body go into stasis. Inserts of blood and organ repair kits, whirs to be heard before they faded for seeing the orange skies.

A stench borne of sewage to flash another memory, one of a funny accent and clacking scuttles. Just audible comments to 9-1-1 about "saving them in their place." Having known that voice well; was after several denials that they promised to arrive in minutes.

Its final words, before that call: "Great Scott, damn and he's dead, Jim! Speak to me, are you okay?"

The feeling of being rocked & cradled; smiles for the crab doctor they'd been encouraged to despise, reject and use at any opportunity. The roar to remember, a door ripped apart, and soon the memories and thoughts to flood through his senses.

Ones to send vitals spiking, to force further sedation from concerned staff. Calm though they might've become, composed they were anything but.

If their back ever left the bed, he'd promise that Planet Express would burn.

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Signs of the storms to come, for the sudden cold spell to sweep the country.

Citizens sure didn't expect their bones cut or blood congealed in wake of those winds, as they wondered for the evening rains and hailstorms to follow. However, none would chatter as much as HQ, the climate rather the least of their worries.

Most crew and colleagues would spot the trail of bloody footprints, smell the cadaverous decay to set in, and jump back for the noises from the broom closet. Of course, the most concern was saved for the splayed, drooling mess they found on the couch… Their Captain and Head Pilot.

Only a gentle prod to have her tumble off, a whisper to spring her upright as she brewed a sextuple espresso. Pale, clammy, and still in committal over last night, her grip would tighten over that mug before she massaged her ponytail.

 _"Whatever final stand he has, it won't be enough. Rip his face off Band-Aid style, if he shows it again."_

Still could hear the laughter from playing with HER powers, watch them flaunt new-found fortunes at HER expense. Even so, he was expected to come to work, and Captain's duty trumped all else.

"Where the hell's Mayfield? We're all ready to go! He better hope he comes in, or I will—"

"Gut him like a fish, feed him to the worms?"

A whiplash of necks as Zoidberg, his fin out and looking cross, stood and approached up close. Clacked around the table, his chance to measure the Captain up as Hermes slammed his fist.

"Clamp it yuh stupid crab, we're trying to hold a meeting!"

"Unless you'd like your intestines to limbo under, friend, I'd suggest you remain quiet."

The Decapodian doctor would then lean towards her, causing her nose to collapse on itself as Hermes huddled himself in.

"It's my own shame to have butchered many fine crewmen, since Farnsworth brought me in." Soon pointed a claw a twitch from stabbing her eye out: "But they stayed alive to quit which, you big murderer, is more than I can say for you."

"His blood was all over your claws this morning, Zoidberg," she sneered back. "You think the police wouldn't take the word of a decorated Captain?"

"I'm no good doctor, but evidence suggests they wouldn't. I can only cut things, Professor nukes 'em to oblivion, Hermes uses forms over fists, and Amy had no hatred of him to hire anyone. Far as broken bones, blistering burns and deep cuts are concerned, that leaves one obvious choice… For SHAME, ma'am!"

Not even a sound as he returned to his seat, just her glare as he kicked his feet up, quite chuffed for himself. Everyone turned their heads her way, not that she looked ready to enter the booth—confession or otherwise—anytime soon.

"Well, anyone else got an opinion? I don't have all day."

Amy would stand up as well, though everyone could see her flinch in spite of being spurred.

"Frankly Captain, and I speak for all of us here, it's not like you've never laid a hand on anyone before. If what we've seen this morning was your doing, then I'm sorry… But you're on your own."

No doubt a vote of no confidence, and in any other situation, a devastating one to come from her only crew left. Yet in place of apology or attempts to work things out, Leela scowled across and launched her knee into the table.

"Fine, not like you must work for a living! Been the biggest waste of time trying to train you; oooh, don't break a nail!"

"Sweet raging bull of Liverpool!" Hermes cut in. "Yuh've been a madwoman since last year, now what 'de hell's wrong wid' yuh?"

"Alright… You WANT a list?! Then have one, bastards. I haven't slept good for a year, I get nothing but bad memories, I take in this stupid, good-for-crap stranger, and then he kills off my only true friends through his ideas! Oh, but why not get accused of murder, be cast aside… _Shall I continue?_ "

A rant to make snow of desert sands, but not to stop arguments and curt accusations before the Professor slapped his command centre. A rippling explosion to silence the chaos, not that the chief cared to sow seeds of order, anytime soon.

"Now that's ENOUGH, all of you! I'll be damned if I have this nonsense interrupt our momentum. As my intern Amy, you have no say, 'less I fail you outright. So shut up and do as you're told!"

Her furious, foreign cursing, before he turned to Leela.

"As for you eyeball, I often wave aside your temper, but so help me Zeus you've gone too far! Bad enough my doctor makes my hires quit, now our Captain does it too? You've got two weeks to make amends, or I'll have you stripped of your licenses… DO I make myself clear?!"

Looking away, she could only curse something foul while finishing her brew.

 _"Of COURSE I get screwed again… Sooner stuff my fist down his throat."_

However, the words of crew and colleague did start to swirl in mind. All those weeks of adventures & attitude, and she never thought to ask despite him always listening to orders, ensuring fair shares, and working to protect them. Never heard him out, her suspicions too strong against his reveal of every hand.

Thoughts of the phone calls amid blank stares about the hangar, back towards the delivery form as Amy tapped her foot.

"Hey, 'Captain', you just gonna sit there? Can forget about looking pretty."

For being the toughest woman most knew, this latest test of fast-rising reputation gave even her the creeps. No crew of theirs had entered the space of Angra-7, but rumours and stories made them hope they never had to.

A small world once peaceful, until the reawakening of a chaotic deity, thousands of years old. Now a breeding ground of cheeky imps, cunning fiends, and destructive demons & devils. Creatures who'd service him through the abduction, imprisonment and labour of captives; often human, often to death.

And God help you if you worked up the courage to protest…

In being reminded of Osiris-4, her decision was clear when she tossed the form onto the table.

"I'm taking some personal leave!" as she rose quickly for the lift. Professor rose just as fast, first time in likely a century, and gave his most vehement denial yet.

"No time off, not right now!"

"Should've damn well known this'd happen… All the nightmares, stress & anger, all the memories corrupted, all the—"

"Captain, get your big butt in—"

"Shut the HELL up, Farnsworth. You've been a BIG reason behind such problems; so help me I'll ensure their and your end if you don't stand aside."

"I'll forget those threats, if you forget your little fantasies. You've got a crew to lead, so go—"

"No I don't, not as of this moment. My leadership, case you missed it, might've taken a crewman's life. Deserving or no, everything happened exactly as I feared, and I won't consider myself fit to fly, until I can prove otherwise."

"Last warning, Turanga Leela… As your CEO & founder, I demand that you stand down, sit in your chair, and start our delivery service!"

"As your longest-tenured pilot in over 40 years, Hubert Jackass Farnsworth, I invite you to try. Regarding this upside down time-bomb you dare call a delivery service, I suspect you'll have LOTS of explaining to do. Think of all the squads, bureaucrats and inventors over the years who'd like a word… Do we understand each other?"

Farnsworth didn't reach his seventeenth decade for nothing. He had survived his humanly eternal share of interplanetary wars, invention lawsuits and intrepid adventures. Plenty of them brilliant enough for a novel or movie adaptation. But that unveiling—and he knew—would end him for good.

Upon his silent wave-away, Leela took to the locker, grabbed her things, and vanished out of the lobby, never catching Amy's wiped bow at her decision to ground them all.

 _"First good idea she's had in a while."_

Leela thought to check about the hospitals first, confirm his being alive or dead. The staff at Taco Bellevue made clear that as no parent or guardian, and owing to confidentiality laws, she wasn't obliged to such details. Local call, least these days, placed to Our Lady of Patriotism in Kenya, only to hear that they didn't offer such courtesies either.

Tube after tube she toured the city, trying to picture where'd he go. Food-O-Mat looked like a shoo-in, except the diners kept changing and kept minding their business.

Noted his new jeans and jackets over the weeks; figured that the Garment District was his next stop. However, virtually all the shopkeepers she axed had just general records of his expenditure. Rounding back to Alien Overlord & Taylor, where she'd meet the salesman who sold him that watch.

"That cheapskate? I'd sooner see no hide nor hair of him, thank you."

City pubs and pool joints; save for Capone's regret of not whacking his teeth in, only a sobering failure.

The Dumbbell Club; only a straight point to a picture of his, captioned 'SERVE? FAT CHANCE!'

For all his raves of the public library, not a peep to be heard. Not that she could, mind, but it did worry her.

Skipped the Hip Joint for figuring he wasn't a dancing or social sort; with most options checked off, she had just her old Orphanarium as one last possibility. A check of every bed, every building, and every last nook of those haunted halls, of certain grease marks, only to realise that he had as good as disappeared. A search of several hours, and only her head beating the wall to show for it.

Consequences had become clear, more so as she shook her head towards Hermes' question of finding him. Slid down and hugged her knees, before returning back to the ponytail.

The career she fought almost thirty years for, now just fourteen days from becoming ash in the incinerator.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Late evening for the latest miracle of Taco Bellevue, not that he'd agree upon new reflection.

Revenge kindling hot for his face's left side; messes of red-raw, blistery, pustule-laden skin from forehead to cheek. Slime-like wobbles for the tender trace-over, fears it'd always remain there regardless of a miracle rubdown.

Struggles forward like a rope was knotted 'round his junk, those dozen paces the direst he'd walked. A yelp for a charred finger; laser stitches to stop him spilling his mind again. Tender closes from palm to fist, wasn't sure all had been set right. Limps and stumbles, in tested hopes that he'd stand straight.

Lots of instruction and walk-throughs before he could sign the papers & depart, after more than simple vindication. Could interpret and admit that his cries were more desperate than prepared, but the rest, he was convinced, was nothing short of a betrayal.

Hailed a cab towards HQ; even for the slicing winds, soaking rain or pelting hail, he powered through that hangar hole and towards the lockers. Several droplet types to greet the floor as he punched his code in, fancied a glance inside, and confirmed with some inward screams the story he hoped to share.

 _"Gods damn you… I fuckin' knew it!"_

Snatched his backpack to stuff cash and clothes inside, extra layers worn to save room and stay warm. Couldn't afford time to change for fears he'd find anyone still working or waiting.

Indeed, fears to come true as he heard a call-out coming his direction. Right as he crossed his Captain's haven, yet it'd be the other voice he despised most of all.

"Who are you to just come barging in here, helping yourself?"

Ignored him in exchange for taking deep breaths, composure about to crack.

"Oh it doesn't matter… I've got our finest boys in blue on speed-dial, so I'd suggest you leave."

Had no chance to make good on his threat, before Mayfield shoved him down and wrapped his hands around his throat, no fears of lost grip as they scrabbled for air.

 _"Send anyone after me, and I'll leave your entire HQ as ashes, and you as a helpless corpse within it… You've already crossed my line, so push me at your peril."_

 _"I haven't an idea what you're talking about! W-w-w-what's the meaning of this?"_

A reveal of scars to frighten them further: _"You think you can coerce me, leave me to fall, and give me this by proxy? I'll cut you a deal; gimme your phone, and you may survive to buy another."_

Professor obliged, and true to their word, the intruder left him lying there. Would clone a week's worth of creams at the lab, before he smashed the phone to pieces, returned to his taxi, and ghosted out inside of a few minutes.

Late takeout, an evening paper, and some stationery on various stops, before a search through several property listings. His escape seemed hopeless at first, until a long-ignored riverside property—hidden in a corner—caught his eye.

Declaring a drop-off to the bus terminal, he found a North to South special; could fly him there within the hour, give or take. For what he'd made in two weeks, he had confidence that he'd be good for a long while.

Quick hotel rest, lukewarm breakfast, and mental blocks on his hatred to focus on the salesman, to get shown about. Ensuite bathroom, fully-working kitchen, queen-sized bed… Everything he had ever wanted, AND the potential to snipe down any shadows from his balcony.

"Before you consider this property sir, you do realise where we are right?"

"Look into these eyes, mate. Do they look concerned to you? Just talk business."

"Well, if you say so… It's $2,400 down, $2,400 every month after."

Murmurs to thank Mrs. Astor and everyone else, before he slapped that cash in the guy's palm. Opportunity seized after years of slashed prices, since according to location apparently, no-one went near it. Proud renter of his first home, and all off his own back.

Thanks of disbelief to remember as the kid began to smile, that old life now left behind. And with the moonlit glow of New New York to greet him, nothing better than a mix of music to salute to new beginnings.

All the way to midnight, and then a nestling into his new cloud-like bed. Stronger than steel, yet a softness and support much like his oldest, once-precious home. Thousand square foot of paradise, his at least a month, and a brand new life begging to be lived.

And by morning light tomorrow, the clearest message to send for his most personal enemy of all.


	17. Condemned Messages

A half-by-half foot box—no address given, no name to trace, and a runny, red-inked 'READ ME' on it.

Made certain to capture the Captain's attention, for her coffee and crime-shaken eyes only. A refusal to return to her pilot seat, even for the crates to creep in, and the curious phone-calls others had to answer.

Choices and events to madden Farnsworth, kettle boiling enough to dress him in full-fledged driving gear; gloves, goggles, thong, the works. She paid no mind to his rants; was a glance towards her windscreen to have her yell out. Knew the hurdles for seeing that pile of wrinkles pressed against the glass, and might've been seconds from losing him had she not hauled him out.

 _"Crazy idiot… We'd be done for if he actually tried to fly."_

Ever gladder for not visiting the Forgettery, her mind raced back to where her enemies could've lurked, just to watch her career be capsized. Spurts of television, diary entries, crate inspections, and rooftop leans to ponder on where he'd laugh in doing so.

Doubted he'd return to Stumbos-4; would've been pounded by gravity and rain without a miracle source handy. To overcome all that, just the local inn to spend his time. Only worthwhile story to start there had been the mutiny against her, organised by an old pain and then-recent hire.

 _"Ugh, he'd have a heart attack for all that heavy cuisine and beer… If nothing else got him anyway."_

Unique thrills of Luna Park could only go so far; doubted he'd ever return to their Moon. Despite the lovely Earthrise from the lander—if you could find it—she remembered only the dusty craters and backwards farms she worked through to get there.

 _"Would die of boredom long before he lost his oxygen. Best set that aside too."_

Open fields of Mercury, only seconds to last without miracles. A great day drive to enjoy, quality solitude by yourself or a chance to talk and catch-up among crew. For virtually anything else of memory, a bad idea all around.

Memories after had left her to smile; had spared Fry from Amy's date, and of the hard horrors sure to come.

Speaking of whom, had always been a regret of hers to help beat the tears out of him. Delirious thirst the cause, when under the three burning suns of Trisol, the fool had drunk their Emperor. Had him power trip to points of refusing her help, yet that pride and arrogance didn't last when, at Bont's constant behest, their literal army looked to juice him alive.

Upon closing time, final thoughts about those Wongs. Given her experiences old & new, she'd sooner flip them the kid's middles than do another job. A rare time that they'd agree; remembered too well those haggles, bargains and arguments over those gaming tables…

'Complimentary' Celine Dion tickets for tips; ripped off, he almost stuffed them in that smug craw.

All the memories to spark a three-way conversation between her shoulders, leave her too preoccupied for goodbyes or to pace about the HQ. Thought she'd do so the entire night; Professor instead shooed her out to sit upon her bed, shuffling a sidewalk quarter, that box to occupy her lap.

A three-way that wouldn't end, and thuds for her constant talking, before she made her decision.

 _"Okay, heads I open her up, tails I trash that sucker."_

A flick of the finger, a tinkling of metal, a clap and sudden flip to her wrist… The head of Coolio, his hair stuck up in several directions.

"Oh crud, of all the—I mean, alright then."

A prise-off of the wooden lid, folded letter she'd seize from inside. More dried, deep-red ink, yet the least of her concerns to be…

* * *

 **Replacement nothing; no matter what, your reward was ALWAYS in here. But for all those strikes, I'm out and gone alright. One fucking question to you… WHO'S the monster now, 'Captain'?**

 **\- TM**

* * *

No question as to who 'TM' was, especially for the evidence of all her cab fares and meal receipts, some two hundred bucks in total. The fancy spread, she'd also note, to cover the major interest, his aces in the hole before she dealt him aces & eights…

Four full tubes of Miracle Cream, not that she believed it.

 _"This the revenge you resort to, kid? Be so low as to slap the label over an antiseptic?"_ A wry laugh before she began to shadow-box, rubbing the cream for giggles.

No longer did for seeing her fists become blurs, for finding the air start to cut and ignite near her face. Shook her head convinced that she'd been seeing things; proved herself wrong again for cranking out hundreds of press-ups inside a minute. Sudden panic for the two out of three, one to stand her up and kick the box. Woodchips and creams, strewn all about the bedroom as a result.

Lungs vacuumed out with cries, in realising her open-and-shut case was as good as obliterated. A face-down collapse upon the bed, wall knocks still thudding for quiet.

 _"All I've endured at Cookieville, all the years of study and hard work, all the adventures I've pulled through, and THIS is what makes a villain of me? My friends would be so ashamed."_

Laws of absence and fondness now against her, all she knew was that there'd be no rest nor mercy, only of the extra strong coffees to come. Perhaps a great deal more, for the voices she started to hear.

Voices to become rattles & splashes, and no chance to react before the knock came through her heating grate. Beyond those bars, a world where the city's condemned were cursed to live.

Gave no response even as the knocks came again, and again. Might've gone down in pyjamas to confront them; no guilt nor green ooze harsh enough to stop her tearing their throats out…

Finally got tired of dropping onto the pillow, still powered up, but sure didn't count on the screws to be loosened. Never heard the metal creak down, nor found the tentacle to ooze inside her home. Reddish-pink in colour, to creep further and further towards Leela's head.

Only to give it a soft, smooth stroke, let her moan and smile in calm. Seemed it had belonged to one more benevolent than first impressed, least until Leela got to thinking.

 _"Wait a minute, I live all alone, what the?!"_

Reacted as anybody would, when her eye flashed open, turned, and spotted those suction cups…

Her scream to wake the apartment, almost rocket her off the bed. The slimy limb to slide bullet-quick back inside, two voices trying to plead no harm nor foul. Not that Leela, laser pistol redder than her cheeks, noticed or cared.

"Well this straight up blackens my Sabbath! Who are you talking heads, the HELL do you want from me?!"

A rough and nasally twang escaped, a touch of 'da Bronx' that sounded angry at first.

"Ohhh, you greet your guests with that mouth, young lady?"

"You're no guest of mine, now leave before I make late-night calamari."

A one-eighty switch; gentle, calm, and daresay loving: "Please do, if it promises the end of all this. For hearing all your cries and screams this past year, was our disgrace that we took this long to find you. Scummy sewer dwellers though we are, all we've ever cared about was your happiness."

Those words would stop the laser, and Leela, cold. _"Disgrace nothing, least you tried,"_ she thought, before sitting by the grate to hug her knees.

"Oh, who am I kidding? All I've done in recent days was thrash about in crap. And yet, I just had to swell the tide above my waist, my chest, and now likely my neck."

A mellow voice, perhaps of a Californian vibe, piped up as the words caught their attention.

"Well, let's help pull you back… What's the matter, my sweet?"

"I don't know where to start, nor what to say."

"How 'bout from the beginning? We'll make the time."

Leela might've screamed for their leave had it not been genuine, but instead she unloaded upon those 'freaks' beneath, least a good hour or two without interruption. As she spoke of lost friends, nightmares, suppressed memories & suspicions, she'd soon lay floating 'over the tide', a serious relief working through her bones.

Was wrapping things up with career threats and AWOL crew to have the laidback lurker speak up.

"And yet you STILL performed above and beyond? Jeez, what words would even… That's so admirable of you! But what are you trying to prove, doing all that to yourself?"

Had to notice the contrast between his offsider and him; not even repulsion stopped opposites from attraction, it seemed.

"Because that company's where my best voyage began. Never found a truer calling, finer friends or greater successes, until I began as Captain of Planet Express. Can't think of a worse way to go, than to wrong the undeserving."

"Ahhh, I understand. Don't blame yourself, Leela, you know there's—OW!"

Quite the squelchy slap to cut him short, as his offsider hissed across.

 _"Oh for the love of… You couldn't stop saying something stupid for five minutes?"_

"Hey how the—uh, fudge—did you know my name?"

The dame of those depths had to juggle some thoughts: "Well, um, uh… Since we're not allowed to walk your streets, we learn of others through what's flushed, drained or thrown away. And honey, when we hear of your heroics and adventures up above, it's only natural to treasure your trinkets."

"Oh bull, nothing heroic about me now… Made quite sure of that, off the back of bad investigation."

A small meeting of minds, stories considered, before the lady offsider addressed her.

"I always thought your temper was a problem. Against those crappy little choc-chips, we'd understand, but against anyone else without proof? Being feared and unwanted drives you right here. And trust me, without crossing state lines, it's as far from paradise as one can go."

"Should've realised he was no Cookieville brat, though I really wished he just told me his plans upfront. Either way, I gotta reach out to him, right my wrongs, and bring him back on crew… If he's even alive."

A sudden wet clump to have the guy gasp and spit, but one to trigger an immediate idea in mind.

"That's just it! Thank surface for my lady friend to mention it… I've got favours owed my way, could certainly call a few buddies to keep an eye out."

"Are you serious? You'd actually take time to try something like that?"

"For you sweetikins, we'd walk the universe to ensure your better life… Besides, what's the harm in trying?"

"Alright, cross my fingers on this… Need a nationwide search on one Thomas Mayfield; height an even six foot, weight in the rather chunky 220s, blue eyes, smooth head, full beard. A real old timer, despite his youth, who wears T-shirts and jeans on virtually all occasions. Here's his only photo."

A pre-assault headshot, and greenish hand to grab it. Only a series of wind-drawing grimaces and murmurs; 'search-and-rescue' even with their best sources had just grown a great deal harder.

 _"Oh dear..._ To be honest pumpkin, even for a few days there's no promise on anything solid. Sewer networks, residential pipelines, the various grates... He'll be a tough one to find."

"To think about it, he's also quite the rude asshole too… Still remember all those middle—"

"And again... Watch your mouth!" came the lady's yell.

"Middles, as in… Why didn't you SAY he was a five-finger? For a moment I thought I had to dust off the old deerstalker."

A slight chuckle for his own joke, only his judging by the silence. Still, such thoughts gave Leela quite the surge.

"Damn does such a deed mean the world to me… Hope you both know that."

Though cautious in sliding out, the tentacle soon gripped her hand in solidarity.

"Anything for your happiness, like I said. But for surface's sake, just promise that you won't take so much upon your shoulders, okay? Why, we remember the child you were; on all our behalves, you oughta know how much we love and admire the woman you've become. But NONE of that is worth such suffering… Understand me?"

"I'm starting to, and I don't think I've ever said anything like that."

Feeling much of everything loosen in that moment, Leela virtually kipped up off the floor, and moved closer to that open grate.

"I've not a clue who you two are, nor whether I'll even meet you. But rest assured, you've done me a world of good tonight. How could I ever repay that?"

The green limb gently gripped her shoulder: "Just knock on this grate, every once in a while. If by chance we can't answer, just look at your wrist… Even if you'll never see us, it's our small way of saying we'll always be there."

Leela removed her device to examine her bracelet; had it ever since Cookieville. Often went to war to keep that silver clasped there, yet never knew what it symbolised, or even what the characters inscribed on it meant.

Nearly thirty years, to finally know where it had come from.

"Good night, and please, pleasant dreams tonight. And I better not know otherwise."

Final words from the dame before the pitter-patters of shallow sewer water signified their leave. All the thoughts and worries to press upon Leela's mind, as she tucked herself into bed, to become instant vapour.

"Well, about time those loud morons ran away… They've no business talking above their level."

Caring nothing for the crazy cat-lady's crack, as she powered down, Leela gave only a smile as she drifted off. A peace for knowing that she had plenty of time yet to wipe her dirtiest slate clean.

And with those underground detectives on the case, she had every confidence that she could do so.


	18. Eggs Cracked Open

No shittier shoe from life's casino, but no better salutes to savour for playing her cards so well.

Such was wisdom's light from depths below, beams of praise and perspective, to give Leela that actual fulfilment again. A clean mental slate that not even the dead crews, dozens of ship issues, and destructive moments could penetrate. In her rub of eye and crack of knuckles, her smile could've blinded the Sun as she raced through her routine in record time.

 _"Wow, and here I thought I'd be planning on much more leave…"_

A wide wave, a cheerful "Good morning!" towards her crew and colleagues; amused stink-eyes at first before their warm returns. Trust issues a given, but protests at just a whisper once she reached her seat, once good fortunes crossed the horizon and onward to Angra-7.

Two town guards, bandanna-clad and at least full heads taller, would approach to chat up and ogle the ladies. Didn't seem like the best post; were engaged in wall-spitting games before arrival, and were so eager to clock off, they didn't bother to question or inspect those ordinary crates.

Special fruit collections and medicine bottles, for the makeshift camp hidden from view. Little coloured puppies on each bottle; an affectionate "Awww!" that to their surprise, was met by a head-scratched frown.

"Jeez, NONE of you have an idea about them, do you? Just as well you look alien enough."

A sign-off and tip nonetheless, and a kiss blown to the guards before they took off; laughs and hugs for the return back home.

"Burn on those old crews!" the Captain gloated. "Only things they did better were tell stories and soil their pants."

Good vibes to galvanise her; though work wouldn't be ALL cruisy and in-control, those denizens of the depths would steady her spaceship well. Her knuckles would rap those bars, and they'd drop everything in eagerness to chat.

Surviving in the big city, life way down below, how work or studies had been… Eventually anything on their minds, and almost nothing sacred. Leela could only laugh; to think those kids made her believe and fear for those grotesque horrors, and she'd have her best conversations among them.

 _"If only these people could've adopted me."_

In so-called surface heaven, purest hell until her friends had her back. Sitting there with her head in the grate, seemed all had come full circle again.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Studio New 54—122133 for the problem-solvers. Had been a Friday night of sipping drinks, cracking jokes and dancing among colleagues, a sweet sip from the cup of life. Almost ten o'clock when the Captain bid them goodnight, a jive swing through her block, cha-chas up the stairs, and even a little singalong as she readied her fingerprint.

Course, she hadn't a clue for the argument beneath her feet…

 _"Are you kidding?"_ the lady called. _"No citizen would dare set foot there, and you're saying he LIVES there?"_

 _"Pretty sure I didn't stutter… Besides our kind, who else do you know to have five fingers?"_

 _"No-one, but it's obvious that I have my doubts. What, were our sewers too good for him?"_

 _"I promised to be a detective, not a mind-reader! Think I'd want to disappoint her again, when decades ago, I'd already done so?"_

Further squabbles and calls by name, before Leela stopped them silent. Had heard her full-blown satisfied stitches before they began to knock, soon saw the downed hair and sweaty face when she answered, sprung to attention.

"Gotta say, a lovely surprise. I'm guessing you've got leads for me?"

A small hum, until the lady spoke up: "To shoot straight for a second dear, we still can't confirm—100 percent anyway—the guy you're after."

"Well, if it weren't for my career, there'd be no rush."

"What my lady friend means,"—the dude interjected—"is that we've axed our contacts to double-check and triple-confirm their evidence, make absolutely sure. Long-lost acquaintance to maybe sight him, thought the eyes would haunt one's dreams. Had you not mentioned the five fingers, we'd have been good for Chupanibre chow."

Leela's ears had begun to perk, as that male lurker continued.

"Brown paper bags held tight in one arm, pronounced scar and limp too. Sent more men to check the networks and nearby; confirmed residencies, wasn't sure we could nail his."

"Ohhhh, I don't like the sounds of that…"

"We didn't either, so we sent 'Elephant' to check it out. If you'll permit me, the truest prodigy I've known. Heard my butt squeak from miles away, spread the word of its beauty, and helped me get a massive bar shout. Been firm buddies ever since."

"Eww, no offense, but I'm not sure I wanted to hear that."

"Right, my apologies. Late Tuesday to Thursday evening, where we'd hear a consistent pattern to those rattling sewer pipes. Peculiar accent to ramble in between hurls, tears and spits. Seemed he'd always go overboard, and often to where my friend would look forward to that shower."

Leela could feel her cocktails rise up the throat: " _Oh boy…_ Faceful of what, dare I ask?"

"Called over 'Picasso' to give his thoughts, he figured it was mostly DOT'S MATRIX and Trotter-brand cola, as well as hints of spearmint and saltwater. Occasional junk of Disco Square Fries, and Nuklear Kohr's frozen custard, for the rare times he ate."

Leela leapt to her feet, for reasons far from exclaiming eureka.

" _Son-of-a-bitch,_ I remember how he smelt of strong whiskey & bile; if you're talking paper bags… But those foods you mentioned, they seem familiar. Was my treat before going back to work, same day after my testimony ousted Zapp. You mean to tell me that—"

"Yes, where no New Yorker would dare to tread. I knew you wouldn't believe us if we told you."

"Do not blame yourself. The bigger question would be what the hell I did to disappear him there. Where would he sleep, in that forsaken hellhole, that we—"

As the answer snapped straight into mind, the following face-palm could've knocked a horse over.

"Oh dear God, how could I have been so stupid?!"

"Is something the matter?"

"How would he have known, when I shared no stories? When my old crew first got together, Hermes would kick Fry to the kerb for all the troubling messes he had caused. Had to crack his neck back for him crashing in Bender's room, which inspired me to take them apartment hunting. The one we were explicit to deny, just because of location… That MUST be where the kid is right now!"

"Well, if you really think so, then—"

"Hey, whatever comes of this, you've been a massive lifeline for getting me there."

"Think nothing of it princess," the dude called out. "You need us again, you know where to find us. Love you!"

"Goodnight, love you both!"

Figured at first that she'd sleep on her words, try for a delicate approach. But to hear about his slow-motion breakdown, she knew it'd be on her to rush by & intervene. Whether they met as virtual equals or no, she could apologise and take her time to answer any question, open-book style, that he axed.

Just as well that her sewer friends, and the kid's gifts, had prepared her for such situations.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Always that hour's swim between piers, to prompt those fresh nightmares again.

Mayfield once thought he could just count his grands or chill to his music while the city silhouettes kept him company. But was always that shape, that routine, and even his brand-new bed to remind him otherwise. Steel frame, soft mattress and more to offer a Captain's comfort, until like his old bed, she splintered and broke him apart.

A single miraculous rubdown might've cured much of what ailed him, of his hundreds at least to go. But he knew it wouldn't bring him truest health, that such extreme memories would've remained either way.

And so he'd spend his days, fists clenched and veins full of venom, as 'grocery shopping' had him buy prescriptions of DOT n' Trot. A half-mix whiskey-n-cola combo taken twice a night, often quick, the moment those city lights gleamed over the Hudson.

Friday night, a later start before he cracked his first can, scrawled "Trust winners, not people!" on its side. An amble for the balcony after his mix was poured, where he'd lay upon his chair, set his glass aside, and command a special tune…

"Symphod, play for me Kenny G's Going Home. 5% slower, shift the pitch."

"At once, sir. And please, let the grooves relax you."

Advice heeded as he shut eyes and had good swallows, the smooth backing and saxophone sweeping him out. Another chance to drift away and out of touch, only for his harshest memory to come crossing the border.

Her jacket drawn closer for the rough winds and what she might've faced. With old crew, often over beers and laughs, she'd admit to thoughts that Fry should've rented the place, regardless of location.

Instead, after her lean-back in confronting that tower, she'd squat down, draw power into her knees, and begin her series of leaps towards the top floor. Balcony after balcony, attempts to laugh off condemnation as she stuck her landings.

 _"As if the crab could talk… Human anatomy's never been his thing."_

Of course, especially once she found him splayed out, holding his empty glass, such confident leaps became tiptoes. To herself, she hoped that he had only lulled instead of lapsed.

A careful pull-away of his glass to set it aside, before she stepped back and shone her light. Had him rouse in murmurs & worries; those and her discoveries to stumble her towards the railing, thinking of escape. No such chance for the trembling growl that caught her dead to rights.

"Ohhh, how novel… She who made Gadget look like Sherlock, lurking in my life again."

Having kicked herself for making metal indents, and thus the groans, she could only wince as he rose gingerly from his seat. Her offer to help, but a stare of death to back her off.

"So, you cracked the case of the Disappearing Dead-beaten… Proud of how you did, of the truth to emerge?"

"I'm, er… Oh Lord, I'm sorry kid. I just—"

A point to her face: "Oh cut it right there, spare me your sorry apologies. Instead, how 'bout you answer MY questions for a change? For starters, what reason had you to deny all my requests, desperate though they sounded?"

"I… I don't know. Before last week, always felt you'd been trying to escape."

"Proof you never listened to a word I said. And speaking of which, what smoking gun let you shoot your judgement, one of guilt & execution?"

"I… I don't know again. Convinced I had the answers, turned out they'd be for the wrong questions."

"Aren't you a credit to your kind? Speaking of answers, you reckon I'd have liked a story or two, before coming to a decision?"

"I… I always believed such things were best buried & forgotten."

"That why you forget the reasons we fight too? And finally, more than you or I, who'd benefit most from our secret tube of miracles?"

The name clicked in an instant: "Professor Farnsworth?"

"Hey, you got one, give yourself a gold star! Look, I'll confess to sowing seeds and setting it up, but it was almost dying along with his threats to force my hand. Sure a shining lass can figure out our plan from there."

He'd then slide his balcony door and limp through, Leela following as she pondered those words.

"Come on, I get it now! My apologies might be worthless, though not sure how, but could you hear me out on amends at least?"

His next dose of medicine poured, and only his scowl with the good swallow to go.

"You destroy my knee, crush my best hand, burn half my face off, and make burger meat outta my manhood… Screw your stupid amends too! You think you'll EVER make up for what I see, feel and live through every day? Entertain me then, you one-eyed psycho."

"Those personal failures were mine, and mine alone. I saw the favour you granted me; could you at least give me the opportunity to try?"

"Far too late, tough titties. A damn shame, what made you think I wouldn't hear you out? I just hoped my work would be my proof of trust first."

"I just didn't think you could ever be. Would you say the same of me, had I looked and acted as you from night one?"

Leela stepped closer, a move that almost earnt her a drink in the face, his most magmatic glare yet.

 _"Back the fuck away, you're no friend to me!_ Your point's valid, I didn't help my case playing all those side games. But I take all these extra miles and efforts to scrub my old self away, and this is how you leave me? Who should trust who, again?"

For that poison up his spine and out his mouth, the Captain's eye searched the ground. Words of one who knew their disadvantage, and gave not a single solitary shit.

"Now get out, and advise the Professor of my resignation."

"You got it kid, but one condition. Boss threatened my career if I didn't bring you back, so…"

She trailed off for spotting her former charge, having heard enough, lurching about the balcony. Second glass virtually as good as necked, it was his attempts to climb the railing that raced her through the balcony door. Her body to shield against the glass, before she dragged him to safety.

"The hell's wrong with you? Just listen to my offer, and you'll—"

"Of course, just like you listened to mine. Oh wait, you didn't… Think some off-sider yells 'That's a wrap!' and our worlds return to normal? That I can slap some miracle make-up and forget what once was there? Shall I call ground control, to commission you a landing with reality?"

"Speak for yourself on real life, kid. To act like you've seen it all, that really annoys me."

"So I choose to repay your faith in me, it's YOUR hand to rip me apart, and you think I haven't seen enough? Lady, I'd have left your arse in the dust for knowing that upfront. Hell, become a human god full-time, doing deeds a great deal better for myself."

Deep breaths and closed eye, temptations to break those wrists: "You'd have helped your case a lot for axing, don't you think?"

A wild flailing shrug of his arms: "Genius, fuckin' brilliant! You'd have LOVED to hear me gamble your original cream away, on a scheme not guaranteed to work… Would you?"

"Kid, I never asked for such drastic repayment. Just your hard work, and—"

"Quit talking bullshit, you know damn well you had better options to pull me up. Besides, I'd have died long before I'd prove that. Was I THAT much of a villain to you, to be ordered within your sight, to be watched having a piss, or to have my guts kicked in?"

"Speaking of evil, you mean nothing out there has educated you enough?"

"You have the nerve, do you? After your rescue, I didn't warp here to have you struggle… How DARE you, serve me fists, from your disgusting accusations, then STAND THERE and call me the villain! Were my choices the 'veil?' Absolutely. At first, I had to so I could 'live.' Then it was to contribute, repay you, and ensure my legacy. But in your unfounded belief, your choices were more 'vile' than mine."

Thought to slap sense in him, but feared she'd knock his head off: "Damn it, listen to me! I can't take such deeds back, but how can I compromise with a pile of guts on the sidewalk?"

"You cannot even now. Way I see it, I'm done figuring you out, done having my ears ripped off, and done as done can be with you. So help me, I'd sooner trust Zoidberg's word over yours."

"You can't be serious. He kicked off my suspicions in the first place, by screwing everything he did for you."

"That crab also tore HQ apart to keep my project alive, including me. Can YOU say the same?"

It was then that Leela chose to let go; his blood, snot and tears could ink an entire novel, and in fact, it had her wonder why he hadn't used the cream himself.

"Thomas, please…"

First time she called him by first name; only his friends and family before Captain. His palms to cross over his face, a personal wind of swirling voids roaring to suck him in.

"Gods rest their souls, but I thought I could finally make my family proud of me. For the near-thousand years and thousands of miles, thought I'd finally live to the Mayfield name. Yet now and forever, was what a fool believed…"

The Captain still saw no tears, but knew that tone with which he spoke. One devoid of any hope or emotion, same kind that she spoke in days of slotting her quarter and closing that booth. Only last-minute friendships and good times to have her dodge those drills, knives & saws, final beliefs that somehow, she'd still see them again.

Couldn't dwell on that for long, however.

"So we never met eyes-to-eye, and in hand-to-hand, there's no equal. How 'bout a meeting of minds?"

"Thanks for coming to your senses, for once… Let's talk."

"No no no, I was thinking a little more… literal."

His sudden, filthy spit in her eye, an unexpected offence to send her fumbling for an ice-cold wash, cursing her lips into lathers. Of all times to not bring her contact lens, for she never saw her former charge lean back and lurch forward, a plan of execution in mind.

Namely, himself.

To that Diamondium-tipped head; headbutts to nearly cleave him clean in half, and drop him before her feet. Several takes to break through, no greater pain he had known, but at long last he would escape from his serrated maze.

Leela hadn't known until she felt for his kitchen tap, that sticky saliva washed out as she began to refocus. Only to wish she hadn't, for finding the blood over her hair, her clothes, the kitchen, and the floor.

All straight out of a horror movie, and never clearer as to how the 'horror' had come about.


	19. One Taketh, One Giveth

None could fault her quick thinking, even if the corpse at her feet left her to scream.

A strong if temporary start for racing downstairs, over the Hudson and back, a cream from her secret stash tucked in a pocket. Cursed her luck for those unreliable powers, though it did have her realise that a delicate hand was certainly the best approach now.

From the ground floor, quite a sight to see this cyclops sprint up two steps at once, using that handrail for support. Hadn't a single idea where he stayed exactly; was only the stench of blood and brain matter to have her kick his door down.

A careful positioning of his head, using her feet and hands, before she fired her 'Emergency Face Laser' to weld it together. A quick whip-out of her cream and a kneel to his side, treating him even as he leaked a great deal.

All over that crimson mask first, and to her eye's regret, his bloodied body once she ripped both shirt & jeans.

"Oooh, sewer kid won't see Tova-9 in his future. Though maybe that's being generous already."

Hoped such out-loud judgements would get a squeezed hand, maybe a fired-up flip of his finger. Yet it became clear as the scent of eucalyptus that, in spite of following her own advice, an additional source of help had become a necessity.

Shades of their first delivery soon came to light; the literal dead man's lift now of single sand grains, yet potentially of her whole world, upon her shoulders. Soon had the human bullet shoot down those stairs, streak across the Hudson again before propping him up inside Taco Bellevue.

Winds to undo a good deal of her work; kid had turned those sheets a deep burgundy before a doctor, doing their rounds, caught the Captain piecing him together.

"Hey excuse me, you're supposed to take a number, you can't barge in like that. And regarding him, the morgue's on the other side."

 _"A number I've got, and a place YOU'LL occupy unless you get to work."_ Crushed a table leg to sawdust, for emphasis. _"We on the same page here?"_

"Alright, alright!" A frenzied wave of hands. "The hell you want, she-demon?"

"I bring him here in hope, and still you had to axe? Why do I always get the interns?"

"I'll have you know that I'm a—"

"Just shut up, listen, and don't screw up… I'm in no good mood."

Giving quite the bribe, she'd hand her full order to stop the leaking, sew his head back together, and allow regular visits regardless of time. Doctor couldn't even ask why before she ran off, her block and apartment reached only to collapse onto the bed, murmurs of old obsessions playing over and over in her mind.

One story to sting her, of years ago in particular, was the Space Honey mission offside the Milky Way.

Had virtually pushed her crew into collecting the produce, and even stole the hive's queen to be. For those and Bender's waspy language, they'd be forced to dodge a bombardment of Buick-sized stingers, lest they got liquefied from inside-out. Had grown quite cocky despite just escaping such a fate, and worse yet, her nose for danger didn't account for that queen growing up, getting scared, and going hostile.

It'd be only her boyfriend, though unofficial back then, to stand and defend her. A luck of sorts to stop him from becoming a puddle on Planet Express property; the Queen would pierce right through his gut instead. Not that he'd feel lucky, for the love he stood for would suffer the poison in his place.

Had him seize control of the ship despite severe agony, grateful for both video games and rare pilot duties. Despite his best buddy's cries and promise to make for the pod, he'd order him to helm the co-pilot seat; wouldn't have done it for anyone or anything else.

Only special genetics by birth to lapse Leela into a complete coma, still in one piece. While her mind became a mental battleground, Fry grew so possessed to be by her side that they required metal restraints to perform his quick surgery.

No proof that he would eat, drink, or do anything besides sit in his vigil of sweet care, shared warmth, and simple talk. Literally every minute, of the twenty THOUSAND to finally pass, before the Captain finally came to.

 _"Had I shared such stories before, I'd have avoided this stupid mess… The hell am I going to do?"_

Her only whisper before she curled up, only that memory to sleep on the entire night.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

No rest nor mercy, and not even a word, when Monday conference came to pass.

None of pleasantries, of weekend waxing, nor of conversation; tromped in so totalled she couldn't trust herself to stop any admission of truth. And then there'd be the juggling of deliveries, the maintenance, the slow count of the clock…

Maddening matters further, the Professor would order "mandatory medical evaluation", and not to her face. Took Hermes' call of chastising to be notified; the certain patience and sound mind went into spiralling nosedives for addressing Zoidberg, seated at his desk and slurping an empty can.

Had you've asked her, she could've believed in and suspected a set-up. More so for seeing her whole work week being booked in advance; the main intent to crack her gourd open. Zoidberg at first opted for the hammer, but having that kicked out of his claw, he settled for an airstrike of axing.

"Why do you close off from everybody? Why always with the temper?"

Leela just imagined, then shivered, for thoughts of making thermidor of him.

"Your parents push you to study medicine? You earn no respect from your friends? You struggle to survive without food?"

Only a fist-clenched snarl in response. Question after question, just glares and grunts before the crab slammed his claws down, face soon inches from hers.

"Damn it Captain, I'm trying to help! Could you just answer me for once?"

A whisper at first, to bring him closer: _"You axe me why I would, when it's always your big flappers to get ME in trouble? Besides, in the truest three words you'll hear_ , I HATE you!"

Zoidberg stumbled back, tried to regain footing: "I knew it, I knew the parents were involved… No cold soup for Zoidberg tonight!"

"How 'bout an absolute zero can of whoop-ass, instead? For one, I spent years becoming a STARSHIP pilot, to SEARCH for my parents. Only friends I ever had in nearly thirty years were my old crew and sewer monsters I never saw. And please do tell, who steals my lunch again & again?"

"It baffles me so, Captain, that—"

"Oh cut the crap, you moronic Mornay! I know damn well you—"

"I don't deny that your food's delicious. I was about to speak of having friends myself, and that—"

Stared twice, finger clean of her ear in case she misheard him: "What, what, WHAT?! How, of everyone I've known, do you have friends? All the crewmen you've destroyed, all the things you steal, all the disasters you've led us into, and dear God let's not forget the gross things you share, including your stench… Who in their right mind, ANY mind, would befriend you?"

"You'd be surprised, Captain. Most days I'm only around as an outlet; what else would any of you agree on? But it's for the rare ones that I stay here."

"Oh, this oughta be good. There's the stage, entertain me."

A claw clacking at his chin: "Well, Professor and I are old war buddies, decades ago he saved my life. Could've had a lab, fully staffed, yet I came here to thank him. That young man, Thomas I think? Never seen one so grateful, just for me getting paramedics. Fry as well, with my apologies. Remained the only one to never hit me at work, and did I ever give him reasons."

She could only splutter noises for hearing him: _"I knew Orange made the dimmest bulbs seem bright, but…"_

Kicked herself before she again glared Zoidberg's way, airing a simple request as to why he'd been so eager to pry. After all she knew, and made clear, of how quick he'd rat her out for a minnow.

Either sensing danger or indeed those calls to lunch, the doctor would declare their time over, and scuttle out of his office. Her scorching rant against him before a secret corner workout, and then a leave for some late lunch and 'talent scouting'.

A way to escape everyone's notice, looking for so-called replacement Captains.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

One could convince Leela of the freak occurrence, and massive lifeline, to take advantage of.

As cream rubs and conversation turned two minutes into twenty, she spoke of revealing all to HQ, even the kid's gruesome suicide. Worst they'd do was strip her licences on the spot, why not get it done with? But perhaps she'd escape for agreement over his complete insanity, that by moving to New Jersey, he'd become a danger to bring back.

A harsh scold for herself to pick such battles; no victory she'd think worth boasting, to strip him of policies and leave him out to dry. Besides, she knew she'd need the ship at some point in her heroics.

 _"Listen kid, if by chance I can't reach you, may you find the peace I never gave."_

A pat and grip of his hand, before the doctor shooed her out and again got to work. She'd walk into HQ to wind up in her final meeting; usual talks to involve numbers and deadlines, before well-wishes were exchanged.

A NYSE bell, or facsimile, to toll their weekend farewell, her final day. No investment towards business, but could care no longer for seeing the Sun or old warship in her future. Another mark of millions to become lost causes, yet she could find comfort in the 'security' coffees, and fond collections of old footage.

In fact, thinking of those tapes to talk to all weekend, she returned home to change into her old Cryogenics outfit—a perfect security look—before she returned to HQ. A little request, before a reminiscence.

"Computer, keep an eye on that hangar hole for me. And please, be subtle about it."

The sunset became a starry night as great chats and squirmy laughs were had, before she soon drifted across the desk. A good time of snoring, of okay dreams it seemed, until she heard a _"psst"_ that kept growing in volume.

 _"Great Heaven's Gate, what the hell is it?"_

 _"Found a black-cladded sort, looks like they headed for the lockers. And excuse me my subtle ways."_

 _"Finally, some action to handle… You're excused."_

Theories and thoughts to pulse about; never imagined in overtime that she'd stop a break-and-enter. Pacing about the conference room, she'd peek glances at both her device and the silent wall of footage, a hesitance towards confronting that crook.

The robbers and junkies she could handle, not so much the predatory aliens without help.

 _"Of all times, to leave my cream behind…"_

Had to hum a little before a finger-snap moment popped in her head; a good old-fashioned slip-n-slide, through some classic Pi-in-One. Person she learned that trick from was NO friend, but hearing about old cartoons did have its uses.

Taking a handspring over the railing, and a gentle drop to ground, she reached the tool rack and grabbed her bottle, squirting a generous grease puddle outside the door. Hiding inside her locker, all she had to do in between games of Solo Pong was to watch through those metal slits.

Seeing that creature crash-land in a pile of bone & flesh, trying to rise up and run in a stream of curses, would spring her straight to action. Before long, she had them pinned down and completely unable to move.

 _"Ohhh nooo…"_

"You've got three seconds to tell me why you're here, before I break every bone you have. Three—"

"Just wanted to see someone, deliver a message… Swear that's all!"

"I'll be their liaison this evening. Now hands behind your head, small movements only. Cooperate, or be welcome to die."

Swore she saw the hooded one flinch as she patted them down, several pockets picked. First happened to be Miracle Cream, mostly full. Second was a piece of paper, rather like the 'READ ME' warnings of before. The creature, still in surrender, made to speak.

"Just this once, can I not have my life threatened? After weeks of hearing it, it sure gets tiresome."

"You picked the wrong joint to expect mercy, pal. I don't do things simple & dignified."

"By all means lady, educate the master. What haven't you taught as of yet?"

"Ever seen how a wrist flick could kill someone?"

"Booorrring…"

"Okay, how 'bout a prompt exit out of an airlock? I've still got my keys, so maybe you'd better shut your mouth. If your aim's to live, then who knows, might do you a world of good."

Soon understood the Miracle Cream in her hand, and her reaction became about the same as getting them all the first time…

* * *

 **Even for the longest of odds, Captain, guess you'd better collect your bet. You've my thanks, just say where and when.**

 **\- TM**

* * *

Though he remained in rather a mood, especially once she almost ripped his hoodie off, she couldn't deny that her charge had returned, every bit the flesh-eaten, beat-down monster she'd left him as.

"No way, this cannot be real. I'm sure to wake up from the desk, any moment now."

"For once, that's a thing we can agree on. And I could always pinch you, if you're unsure."

"No, no, won't be needed I think… How the hell are you here?"

"You're welcome to enlighten me. Before the catalysing whatsits, memory thingies and modern science mumbo-jumbo, I'd have thought the doctor was talking out his arse. Course, seems I've still much to learn about the impossible."

"I'll be damned… And as for where and when, how 'bout tonight at your place?"

"Straight to business, huh? Think I could oblige ya; such efforts deserve the time."

A great weight now off Leela's shoulders, the deal was sealed by a handshake. And as the two left through the hangar hole, they'd hope for one thing above any and all else.

Clarity from chaos, a true common ground, in their meeting of minds to follow.


	20. Open Book Hearts

Until the catch-up between Captain & charge, usually she'd take any reason to avoid New Jersey.

But she had quite enough of the searches, splitting headaches and silent worries; talking to the kid, she declared that time had come to set pride aside, be professionals, and put an end to their enmity. First in her good faith showcase, and to get in some cardio, a little game of racing to his door.

Found some wrong footing at first; no comparison between her casual lean against the wall, and his game limps all the way up. Harsh sounds as he favoured the left handrail, and a most cranky look once he passed his Captain.

"Come on kid, do I have to give you a lift? You know you can't rely on miracles forever."

"Lady, what are you trying to prove? I'm just hoping I live to regret this."

Eventually she did help him up; an appreciative grunt before his surprise for missing his door, and especially for finding his place cleaned spotless. Never remembered being advised of housekeeping, for how thorough he could've sworn that Hermes had paid a visit. Splatters of blood and brain matter to hover in mind, yet a far different stench to what he expected…

"First of all Leela, please accept my apologies for all the trouble. Second, I gotta ask… Why didn't you drag me back, imprison me in HQ when you had the chance? We both knew you had the power, cream or otherwise, to do so."

"That's fine, and as for why you stayed free, I couldn't imagine the revenge beyond those words you spoke, at least beyond such self-destruction. I mean, did you remember your face once I arrived? Mix that venom with such 'medicine', and even I couldn't control that monster for long."

"Part of me would agree; ain't that bad YET, but in this head lies a realm that even I'm afraid of."

"Speaking of which, and after all you did in so short a time, why were you so adamant on cleaving it apart like that?"

"For all my attempts to forget my association, and my suffering for it, that silhouette of HQ would always remind me. Anything else—leaping, drinking, goading—you'd have likely wised up to."

Her glance beyond the balcony: " _Of all the words to use…_ Sure I guess, and by the way, here's for the doors I broke."

A 500-dollar Gore palmed in his hand, laid there for several seconds before it slipped into his pocket.

"Outside of work, that's twice now you've saved my life. For what it's worth, makes me glad to be indebted again. Anyway, for talking of medicine… I'll be right back."

A personal desire of DOT n' Trot on his mind, but in seeing her and the universe of stories to explore, imagined there'd been no better time to reduce his prescription. Least he'd think so, as he clicked his fingers.

"Care for one, Cap? She's a tough sucker to sample, but really, the flavour hits the spot."

Her grinning hand rub to worry him: "Half-glass, save the ice if you don't mind. Week's been one to forget, and I sure want to start now."

 _"Damn, lass can hold her liquor."_

As drinks were handed and he dipped upon his counter, soon the stage had been set. A true meeting of minds, hopefully without butting heads.

"Listen, though I'll cross fingers, I can't guarantee that things will get better. In fact, everything must be 100% open-book; no ifs, ands or buts, if we're to trust one another again."

"Depends on what's asked… Best that you go first, I think."

A small nod as that sharp mix warmed his soul, and she readied her eye in swirling the whiskey. The kid would then rub his skull, his past coming back to burn.

"Wasn't a life of pride to memory; always been a grey area growing up. Tried to get to the bottom of it through seeing some dozen 'specialists' in the early years, but they'd only set my outcast fates from the start. Defined me as a 'waste of space', a 'vegetable', and a 'drain of society' for however long I'd live."

 _"Sucks to hear, but still the luckier of us two."_ Her pondering eye-roll, as he took a small drink.

"But when my family made it their mission to middle finger that lot, I'd believe in man over money. All in great hopes that I'd prove everything the 'experts' denied I'd be, I'd get decades of lavished love, of efforts and lessons to enrich that existence, create actual worth in life. You could imagine, then, that my biggest desire was to pay all their dedication back."

 _"Everything and more I had to teach myself, to get anywhere."_ Lucky he'd been tapping his glass to hear her, see her red-cheeked look.

"Thought I'd get the world and do so for graduating, turned out I'd never leave the street. Did anything from volunteering, to joining clubs & agencies, to learning at home… Mattered nothing, as all I did was mooch. All this punching nothing but air, to leave me believing that money, over others & myself, mattered more. Least I'd have the crumbs to contribute."

"Rather a waste of a young life, had you've asked me… Though I guess you're at least trying now."

A clench of fists when she looked back; at first thought that he'd taken offence. Turned out, and Cat Stevens said it best, he'd been trying to reveal his first cut of all…

"Few months after my 25th, I'd hear noises during a typical late night. Thought nothing of it at first, but was off to the fridge when I witnessed my parents being dragged out of our house. Creatures covered in tiny robes & hoods, half a dozen at least. Couldn't even begin to ask before I felt most memories of that encounter blanked, before I ended up laid out on the tiles. Woke up thinking I'd hug my folks, believing it'd only been a nightmare…"

Leela took a small sip of whiskey, getting a good taste for it before she gave a shiver: "Ever found out where they got to, if—"

"Never a clue. Ten times a day I'd call the police, always fears that I came from pure air. Got to my final warning; handcuffs at the ready, a stern word, and a sudden leave. Had happened minutes after my brother called to disown me; grief-riddled mind just ran my body right out. Only remember the blur since of garbage housing, job hunting, overdue bills, and the bottoms of bottles… That'd be that, 'till I got here."

Unimpressed though she'd been, she could at least sympathise in a sense. The cheap jokes to crack, all the pleasures mundane, all the obsessions zealous, and all the storms he would brew. Wasn't often he cried, saved all those tears for realising his world had been ripped apart.

"As a baby left at Cookieville's doorstep, I never remembered my parents. They'd send me there in a soggy picnic basket, dress me in lilac pyjamas, and pin a letter to convince the Warden that I was an alien. To lay credence to that, none could decode that thing even now, never mind back then."

"And yet look at you today… Truly not how you start, but how you finish."

His turn to ponder, hers to take a drink.

" _Yeah, how I finish…_ Anyway, it's a tragedy to sleep there alone, but a great deal worse among my old class. Sure you can guess why they'd single me out, if not, all I'd ask of you is to picture how decades on, I can still roam those halls and hear those ghosts of 'One-Eye!' Maybe even 'Bedwetter!' or 'Stupid as a French guy!' if they felt cruel that day."

A loud gurgle had Mayfield grabbing his tummy. "Rotten low-life bastards, the lot of 'em."

"Sad thing was, I wasn't sure I could blame them. Even so, I wanted it to end. So I'd take up Arcturan Kung Fu; most times it worked, but there'd be certain twerps whose torments would continue, all the way to my 'graduation.' Couldn't give the whos & whys; after I left, I'd find an ad for being a Starship Captain. So gripped me, I'd tackle sixteen hour days, six days a week, for years to make it happen."

"Damn, I'm good as done after eight, and I thought YOU were the privileged of us two."

"Certainly wasn't back then. Thought I'd get my chance to fly, and then the city would chip me as a Cryogenic Counsellor. My old uniform, as you see. All my studies, extra credit and simulations, only to sort stiffs for a crummy check every week. But a new millennium gave new opportunities, thanks to one frigid fella in particular."

"And who did that turn out to be?"

"Philip J. Fry—Fry for short—on December 31st, 2999."

Handing over a picture, Mayfield's eyes almost popped; exact same he first spotted in that cabin safe.

"Wrong foot at first; I'd check off his career as delivery boy, only for him to refuse and run off. Spent the whole day chasing him down, but it'd be those world-weary eyes and words to have me realise, ultimately seize, my desire to quit and pursue the dream. By lucky chance, his great-to-something nephew had our next jobs lined up… The then-latest crew of Planet Express."

"Bugger me backwards, he's related to the Professor?! Oof, even you'd take forever climbing that family tree."

Mayfield would get more photos, and confirm the original crew through the three's shoulder hug, HQ waving or sleeping in the background. Squirms and aches however, for seeing that robot's rippling belch in one series, a collection of shots snapped of Fry screaming for being cooked alive.

"Jeez, that's a bit strong… I've met my share of arseholes, but—"

"But nothing, Thomas. Horrible jerk that he was, he had his moments. Just as you did, I'd wager."

"Did you really compare me to HIM that whole time? Is that why when we first met, you kicked the ever-loving shit out of me, drowned my lungs, and deemed it all fair?"

"Ehhh, not quite. To sum it up, I'd call it straight bad luck. One, your scream brought me back to an adolescent trauma. Two, I'd be suffering nightmares on top. And three, you'd catch me on my 'anniversary.' Such stories I'd sooner keep secret, but did you expect to avoid being that lucky sucker?"

"S'pose it would've been hopeful of me… And I thought I was in a bad way."

"Knew I couldn't justify it, yet I stayed so angry I couldn't apologise. Even for your middles, it took Cookieville to calm me down, took a roar to reaffirm my role… And then whose voice should I hear but yours?"

"Why did you bother though? Given my worthless arse at the time, sure seemed pretty stupid to gamble that well-won life away."

"I'd agree, but I also knew that no-one should make that hellhole their home. And in certain senses, you did remind me of myself, of those old friends…"

 _"Did get such grumbles my first delivery…_ How so?"

"The clothes you wore, similar to Fry's for a start. The notions of social exile and flaws made obvious, thinking of myself. And going by Bender, where do I begin? For the oddest reason, we've lately not been on the best terms."

Mayfield grew rigged to explode, but as the observations followed, he began to understand. Couldn't deny that love of money, nor the years of vices, nor all the desires of finding secrets. Loss of family and nothing else worthwhile for the formers, and once decades of video games and fun cheats for the latter. Even those chaotic thoughts, daresay evil, always there in the back.

"To be blunt, I was adamant that you were him made human."

"Shit, so my chances were rigged right from the gate… Yet you only hated me for the things I did, and that's despite how this world educated you. Leaves me to wonder, what the hell DID Bender do, to leave such a question of friendship?"

"That's what I intend to find out. Might've slapped your lips off for asking any other time. So, for the sake of personal opinion, how do you believe they'd first impress upon you?"

"Can't say I'd be any flattering. Gods-awful mess was one thing, but had that tin bastard treated me like that, I'd have ripped him apart toot suite."

"Well, Fry could never bring himself to do so. Maybe you'll—"

"Wait, you mean to tell me they remained friends, despite all those photos?"

"That was just it. Oh sure, Fry could make Einstein out of any idiot, yet the way he loved and gave chances had made him so golden to me. Impressive, I'd think, for being born out of the rudest borough I've known. Had hoped he'd rub off on me; such a heart stopped Bender's suicide in addition to grabbing my true calling."

"Wow, legit reasons still, for your love to burn. And as for Bender?"

"Were it not for him, I'd have never led when one needed a leader. Also helped me develop my razor edge; one way or another he'd make me confront problems head-on. Have me question my world, the universe I sailed… Though to be frank, Thomas, you have no true idea."

"I've all the time to find out, and more if we must sleep."

It was then that the time vanished to her regaling of tales, Mayfield's eyes and jaw to lock and remain open wide. Slow, mesmerised sips while she gave the rundown from apartment hunts to drink factory tours, from Zoidberg mating—"Eurgh!"—to intergalactic battles, and from stupefying brain aliens to screwing time's fabric itself.

"So tell me, had you not reminded me of crew, of how we did EVERYTHING together, would I have lent my hand, gave all those chances, or hurt you as I did?"

Seemed he didn't even hear the question, almost didn't notice Leela's amused finger-point his way.

"Maybe you'd better get some water… Been sipping that empty glass for five minutes."

"Oh for… Of course I have." A giggling face-palm after he looked. "See you've finished yours too."

"Mine might be empty, but not yet I haven't. If of course, you're quite okay with it."

"Heh, maybe I should've left the bottle in reach."

His stand to again tend bar, as two full glasses once again became theirs. Mayfield was much more at ease, thought of asking his Captain except she stood there unaffected. Course, there'd be something about her shifts in tone, an erratic pace-about on occasion.

"No odder trio you'd imagine, but a kinship I foolishly hoped would last my whole life. And when I never even considered Amy that close, what hopes did YOU have after our first encounter?"

The kid took in a sudden lungful of air, thoughts of rage rising yet only a deferred shrug for quick reflections on her stories.

"Oh, who the hell was I kidding? Whatever circle I might've had, it'd be hose-watered summer concrete put next to yours."

"Funny you say that; would've believed the same thing growing up. Only misery from whoever looked my way, apathy from whoever I looked TO. Hell, my once-mentor gave me both; always declared I'd 'lack the will of the warrior.' Didn't matter how often I'd prove otherwise."

"Psh, I'd plead for you to lack more, personally."

A good laugh in going for a handshake: "No promises there, but at least you deserve another clean slate. Just as it was last time, and the times before, everything had been my fault."

He leapt off to return the gesture, before backing up with a sudden look: "Times before? Excuse me, but what exactly do you—"

Her hand snapped back to her side, smile had begun to turn: "That's not a story you're going to know."

"Why not? Ever since I started, I've always had other questions about our first weekend, that—"

"Back off kid… I don't want you ruining our good vibes here."

"And how many times did you ruin mine? I made promises to be 100% open-book, and though my life doesn't compare, I made sure I kept it. You came to me seeking amends, to save your career… I'd say holding up your end is how you'll pay up."

"Why the hell do you care? They've been nobody to you at best, and at worst, they were the source of your problems since I took you in."

"Bullshit Leela, that was ALWAYS you. They weren't the source, but to wit, they were the catalysts. Say the least I've got two-to-one that they'll remain trouble, unless you help me understand."

"Look at you kissing our asses and acting the company man, when a week ago you spat and suicided in front of your Captain."

"Tell me that story, and I'll vouch for you and vanish, at your request. Come back on crew if you're happy to have me. But damn me to the darkest quadrant if I suffer your violence again, without knowing its origins."

Leela's teeth could've grinded to form cracks before she gulped down the rest of her whiskey. Her stare backwards to leave him arching up, yet standing resolute as she approached close.

"I swear, make mention of it again, and I'll—"

"Oh go ahead, twist my arm into a pretzel, make a speedbag of my ball-sack. Speaking for myself, no-one else cares; not the streets, not HQ, not our customers. All your efforts to come to these crossroads, to confront our pasts, and now you're cowering? You're welcome to enlighten me, about who the fuck else you'll turn to."

The grip on her glass to whiten her knuckles; the wounds to infect her life, that she'd left to ooze, had begun to break and fester open.

"You mother-f—Really, you insist? I've my reasons, to remain the only one knowing."

A silent nod, as she stepped just inches from him.

"Fine, but you'd better listen… Two years ago, old crew and I would discover the Miracle Cream, off of Zoidberg's purchase of all things. When it somehow stopped us from getting mugged and shot to death, we'd talk a while and decide that we'd band together as superheroes. I'd be Clobberella, Fry became Captain Yesterday, and Bender would knight himself as Super King."

An impressed nod, yet not one to calm Leela by any margin.

"Together we were the New Justice Team; community service through violence, comic book legends in the flesh, fame and money beyond belief. Least they were our reasons respectively, to enjoy such a side hustle."

"Superheroes, huh? Won't lie, I do like that idea."

"Well cram it, 'cause it's no careless fantasy. At first, it was a great ride; stopped several key crimes, earned a bunch of merits, even grabbed a sponsorship or two. But as our reputations rose, so did the ire of the world's supervillains. In fact we'd be lucky to stop The Zookeeper's Gemerald heist, only for Bender's signal and boastful tongue to expose our secret. In retaliation, that fat safari-suited freak would pay us a personal work call…"

"That would worry me, to be fair. What did they want?"

"A simple trade; we'd exchange the lives of caged, piranha-bait civilians, for that very same Quantum Gemerald. We'd have 'accepted', and enacted ourselves a plan, but for one issue."

"Running out of the cream, I take it?"

"Now you get my reaction. Word got around of him hunting down, buying up, and destroying every last tube, so we had to bluff our way through that heist. The trade of that glowing green rock was successful, and yet those jerks made me wish deep inside that I had fed the fishies myself. Instead, after a couple loose ends, we were forced to retire."

"So wait a minute, that was all? Surely I was expecting—"

"Interrupt again, and I'll make you bite your own shoe. So our normal lives resumed, and I'd be dating Fry when, a year from that trade, I'd get a home call. A blubbering plea, begging us to save the 'last' Peruvian Spider-Fly."

The thought could've had him bite fingernails: _"May I never find out what that is."_

"I couldn't refuse the return to glory, the great reward that client would offer. Plus, I was crazy enough to consider it too cute to leave behind. Least before the son-of-a-bitch bit me."

"Take it here's where the cabin, tribute and memories come into play… What happened?"

"What would you imagine to have happened? It'd inject me with a baiting pheromone. Turned out our 'reward' was having accounts settled; we'd be stalked and surrounded on all sides by creatures who starved to eat us alive. Took Bender belching fire to break us free, of course only to save himself. I had to catch up so I could take bridge, but as for Fry, well…"

Rather pronounced sighs and sniffles now, before her face looked to break water. For Mayfield, fears he'd fallen far too deep to back away now.

"Been over twelve months, since we got forced to leave him behind. I'd ask about him on bridge, before my vision got cut to black… Woke up screaming towards the fact that my friends were missing, or made into monster dinner, once arriving on Earth."

No time to set drinks aside in his dawn of horror, as that eye virtually met his, as she gripped his hoodie in both hands.

"Do you finally understand what I meant by 'way worse to suffer?' Can you now comprehend how 'complacency kills?' Have you realised why I envied your sob-stories, resented your nostalgia, and HATED your 'discoveries?' Why I acted so harsh against your lies and lack of good faith?"

Could only offer nervous headshakes, as she threw him towards the wall offside.

"Of course you couldn't. You see, I'd have grabbed your life in a Goddamned INSTANT, had Fates given me the chance! As you bitched, moaned & whined, I'd have fought a friggin' army!"

A snatch of his glass as he tried to shuffle across, and out of her reach.

"See, only Fates beyond could break apart that family of yours, a force of luck if ever there was one. Me? One selfish choice out of stupid pride… My only friends in nearly thirty years would vanish, sight unseen."

Soon swigged down Mayfield's mix before he could blink. A wipe of her lips before her sermon spurred onward, another stare-down again.

"Every single day since, all those memories I just shared wouldn't leave me alone. No matter where I'd walk, how I worked, what I did, when I slept, I'd hear my Captain's call ousting them to the abyss. Only creatures on this mudball to love me for me, now fertilising the very ground we fought on."

Mayfield tried to come closer, only to collapse down the wall when his glass got hurled at his head. Miniature crystals to explode, might've had shards in his brain were it not for his hoodie.

"BACK YOUR ASS UP! So in the middle of juggling that, my Captaincy, our deliveries & whatever else, you come along, desperate to fit in and gain control of your life. That damned cream, Fry's final backup, gave the means to do both, but all I saw in your eyes was the way to compound my ultimate mistake. A desire of replacement, as you did everything they could and then some."

Mayfield dared not reach his feet; familiar frontiers, yet more unknown than ever.

"When you stole what'd help me rescue my friends, the crewmen to be my anchor, did you think I'd spare you? Especially after all the chances you had to come clean? Hell, I'd come to envision Fry as a husband & father, ever since I coin-flipped him… And you talk of how you finish, of extra miles and efforts to scrub one's past away."

Her rant finally over, the sigh would have her shuffle for the balcony. Mayfield beyond speechless, as he followed close behind.


	21. Same Book, Same Page

_"Ohhhh shit, and I'm sure I was warned about this… Of all times to be caught unprepared."_

Though it'd be of relief to see his Captain seek the stars over the sidewalk, that hand to clutch his chest soon cupped his mouth once he saw her grip the rail. Knuckle cracks heard, a tsunami of memories to crash out as raindrops over his balcony. Those he heard and more, to leave his own eyes pooling.

 _"How come I played the hero, Thomas?"_

He cared nothing for their history at that moment; sudden instinct had him pull her into an embrace. Her tight squeeze to have him consider protest, yet he hadn't the heart when her head met his shoulder.

 _"Jeeeeee-sus Christ; confusion, condemnation, long odds, realities, betrayal, loss & pain… Same book, same page, yet none to hear her read."_

Hadn't a choice in coming here, was true, but he still faced this future for small hopes of finding his family. For his absolute rock, now and forever, he'd fight for the chats over coffee & cake. Fight for the good times over games on board, in backyards, or over screens. And of course, he'd fight for the stories out of work, around the house, or from an ancient sketch toy of all things, his brother's wicked imagination.

The Captain he cuddled only forged her friendships, family without question, through her countless adventures by Fry and Bender's side. Adventures that most would've deemed impossible, in Mayfield's world.

To think she had bottled and corked that life, plus the before & after, that entire time…

 _"For twice the eyes I've never been so blind. For all my privilege, acted so hard done by. For all the Stupid Ages talk, proved the truest idiot alive… Could you ever forgive me?"_

Her final squeeze to burst their zit of grief, while the stars sparkled or shot overhead. All the countless episodes since those phone calls, since their loss of loved ones & lifetimes, now starting to cool and temper inside their heads.

Those tears now slithers of a smile, a world of differences now a kindred spirit, as they let each other go.

"The way you offered love, stood for the weak, commanded respect, and never sought serious favours, I've never known a more natural actress for such a role. Even if you haven't believed so of late."

Her smile to grow just a little wider, as he helped her dry those tears.

"Listen, I can't promise it'll happen, but to my final gasp, I'll use everything I can to give you that closure. Lord knows it's long overdue."

"Thanks Thomas, but please don't. I'd rather it remain my battle to fight."

"Hey, an extra pair of eyes never hurt anybody… Well I've nothing else, so now what? Reckon you'll head home given plans or—"

"Had my meal marathon for the month, but you've bonned my Jovi somewhat. Been having drinks and dances before all this, wouldn't you agree that we're halfway there?"

"Well there's a surprise two-fer, stealing my puns and enjoying the classics. But I believe I can accommodate; Symphod, please shuffle up for us your finest 80s hits. 5% slower, shift the pitch."

From there that empty space became their dancefloor, party kicked off by the gritty street synth, grungy guitar riffs, and thumping drums of Beat It. A rare chance to cut loose, as both music and time faded into the air.

Captain's demands to rewind for several solos, her challenges to mimic the classics and create Van Halen-style fires of their own. Most she'd end up winning hands down; ponytail whips, flexible fingers, and renewed springs for every step, in her favour.

Sweat dripped and drinks downed all evening; Mayfield's mouth could've dropped for the half-dozen half glasses his Captain would total up. All of them 101-proof, and yet NO proof for being unfit to fly.

 _"Oh man, and I thought her steak feat was a fluke."_

The shuffle was made silent after several hours, as both Captain and charge leaned against the wall. He more than she to suck in oxygen, but they both laughed just as merrily as the other.

"So kid, how shall we close the show?"

Took a moment to compose himself: "All night long we've hurt so good, hardened our hearts, got eyes of the tiger, and had the time of our lives… So good question love, what else could there be?"

"Hey hey now, we're not THAT close!"

"No no, just like a… Oh geez, how do I put it? From the homeland, for a lady in general."

"Sure about that now? I mean, all those careless whispers we've confessed since—"

A slap of his head: "Of course, how did I forget? Say no more, we'll have that sorted."

Soon that smooth sax to send them to the balcony, that long-angelic voice of George Michael to have her lead the kid about. After weeks of pretending all had been well, of cheating the other to deny otherwise, there they'd waltz high above the clouds, anchored to a heaven of sorts.

"So Leela, how 'bout a game of me own? Rock, paper, scissors; first to three. Winner gets the bed, loser hits the floor. You in?"

"Better get ready to sleep rough; have you cut down, covered up and smashed apart before long."

Seeing her words backed quicker than spoken, Mayfield grumbled as he started searching. Wouldn't be his best sleep, to be certain, but by virtue of tonight, he had no reason to really care.

"Goodnight Captain, and hey… Thanks again for your faith in me."

"Oh can it Thomas, you know I'm off-duty. Besides, you've my thanks for deserving it… Pleasant dreams."

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Had anyone else lived nearby, they could've thought of stripping the place clean for how quiet it'd stayed.

As the new day dawned over the dilapidated high-rises, only mutters were the sound to escape, expected for eyes being blasted open, for body cracking as Mayfield rose. A splash of water, a skip in the step, and a search for breakfast.

From toast to mini fruits to maybe eggs & bacon, he could've kept counting up until he caught the cereal box of Archduke Chocula. One in every household; flakes coated in chocolate and mixed with mini-mallows. A sugar-blasted disaster, even before the 'Third and Third and Third' got added in.

One taste to have him drown the bowl and shovel it in; equal mix of full-cream milk, cream & sugar. Perfect convenience for the city's on-the-go coffee lovers, and for anything else…

"Oh Lord, kid… There's a heart attack waiting to happen."

 _"If I die the happiest fat-boy alive, so be it,"_ he chewed before gulping. "Otherwise, how'd ya sleep?"

"Had often lied to others in saying I was fine… This is such a time when I speak the truth."

Her laugh to light up the room, as she began her own search & scavenge. The slab of bacon seemed normal enough, but to really get his attention, an ostrich egg twice as big as his head.

 _"Okay, now how the hell did she pull THAT out?"_

Again remembered her words about the 'impossible'; thought to leave it at that before sudden thoughts squirmed into mind, and were soon interrupted.

"So tell me straight Thomas," she called, brushing back hair: "You didn't mean that whole hero thing… Did you?"

"Meant it clear as crystal. When I got the context, I saw a woman who had orders more courage, brains, strength, and capacity for love than anyone I've met. Costume or no, and I'd say Fry would agree, I can't think of a truer beacon of what humanity can be."

Words she dwelt on in her careful stir of scrambled eggs, that panning of rashers to sizzle. Only reply after a time was to cover his hand with hers, a warm gaze to share.

"Thank you. Seriously, thank you. And as for yourself, I think—"

"Never mind me, I've nothing to compare. But there was something I hoped you could clear up."

"What's on your mind?"

"However did you find me in this big blue sphere?"

"Dear friends from down deep, from way back if you could believe it. They heard my stories first and called in favours, just as well that your middles pointed them the right way."

"Fair play, I never knew. So as I understand it, these friends of yours gave immediate help, without any requests in return?"

"Well, nothing serious. Just that I make time to knock on my heating grate. What's your point?"

"If you can remember, did events happen that even today, you could never explain? And often enough to not be coincidence?"

"Was always led to believe that my parents looked upon me from some faraway planet. But between cookie boxes, birthday gifts every July 29, and guiding hands whenever I cried… Come to think of it, no wonder I've had reasons for funny doubts like those."

A look of intrigue to give, before he got to thinking: "Once we finish up, how 'bout a race to the terminal?"

"You really think you're going to beat me this time? Had I not helped you up, I could've collected a pension by the time you got there."

"Caught me unprepared last night. This time, I've got a good feeling. Let me get dressed first."

His slip from view upon shutting the door, a rummage about his secret stash as he finally figured out who the unusual stench belonged to. No better way to kick off a weekend; clear blue skies, bright sunshine, no fear of volatile mercury. He'd soon be dressed and out the front door, where she was already waiting.

"Been waiting almost an hour!" she joked. "But since you're so confident, how 'bout we make it interesting? A Gore apiece into the pot, winner-take-all. You're up for it?"

"Risk-free I'd be right there, but money's rather tight. Besides, you've proven enough times that on equal terms, I cannot win."

"Don't tell me after all that man-to-woman talk, that you're no longer a man?"

"Gods damn you… Alright, you're on. Sure I had a few bills gathering dust anyway."

They met in the middle of the road, sprinter's position. Eyed each other off, brand new fires within, as the kid began the countdown.

"One for the money, two for the show, three to make ready, and four to—"

All Leela could yell was "Hey!" as he vanished in a blink. Took off and got there inside of five minutes, only to see that smuggest of smirks plastered over his face.

"Go."

"Why, you cheating little…"

"You didn't think I lied about the equal terms thing, did ya?"

A beckoning finger as Leela coughed the money up, grouchy for losing but grinning for the idea in mind.

"Okay, I'll give you that one. But now that you're powered up and injury-free I imagine, how 'bout you drop me off at home? Got no small change left."

"I've a better idea. Perhaps something that shall I say, oughta prepare you for such tricks."

A few flaps found in his pockets before, from his jacket, he tossed three full tubes of miracles her way. His secret weapon to leave her eating dust, and now bursting his tummy for her series of gulps & noises.

"Okay, time-out, whoa! What is it with you and finding these damned creams again?"

"Who said anything about finding them? Just hit me up if you ever need a supply, okay?"

"Alright, I'll hold you to that." Her water-risen breath to signify a power-up. "In the meantime though, thanks again… Really, for everything."

His salute and smile as she flashed across the Hudson, big skips of water left in her wake. No better start he had known; a crisp new payday, the enormous grief aired out, the soothing embraces, the wild drinks, that wildest of parties…

For once tasting the Big Big Apple's soil & dirt, to now reach this point of his future life, he could finally appreciate this potential new home. All the beauty and fondness he enjoyed in spurts, rather than the horror and hatred he'd been so accustomed to.

"Can't believe I'd say this, but never have things felt so peaceful before… Long may it last."


	22. Confrontations

At first, no simpering grin nor shoulder clap could bother Leela as her deadline inched closer.

But for sipping coffee and reading magazines, it'd be checking the clock's last digits to do so—thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five. Couldn't wait around afterward; only moved for her locker, rummaged in her purse, and once again collected on her well-gifted policy.

 _"Sure it's his first day back since buying the place, but he can't have forgotten, can he?_ "

A lightning sprint straight out those doors; way she saw her charge bite his knuckles told her all she needed to know. True to form he had been sitting about for the bus, only to hear last-minute cancellations.

 _"Really, of all the things? Like hell I'm going to let this cook my career."_

Must've figured that there'd been too many witnesses, too many questions to simply whip out the tube and vanish. Made her move once he moved out of their sight; a blindsiding hoist upon her shoulders before she rock-skipped over that river again.

No chance for him to yell out, not in the matter of moments where they rose from riverbank to dock, the winds working to eat him alive. Couldn't scream nor struggle to squirm out, only collapse as she spared him some cream and saved him from such burns, and maybe crapped-out intestines to wit.

Getting his bearings, he could at least remember: "What you tryin' to do Leela, gimme a heart attack?!"

"You know damn well I'm anything but a messenger," she lectured, folding her arms. "And I've much better things to waste than fuel for crossing a river. Now come on, let's get inside."

To see those two come back up the lift, The Professor could only yell "Oh, foo!" and thud fists, cracks in hands to be heard. Just as well he didn't recognise those scars, though to be fair, he'd already forget a thousand things before breakfast.

Rest of the crew and colleagues left borderline speechless, reasons in the dozens save for Hermes. As any good bureaucrat should've done, he gathered himself to chew the delivery boy out.

"Sweet can rattlin' in Manhattan mon, where 'de hell have yuh been?"

"To answer your question, well… I've been everywhere man, I've been—"

"Spare me 'de song & dance, seriously."

"Very well, straight shots it is. In this building two weeks ago, your Captain came inches to murdering me. Was only roused by your doctor's stench, saved as he called Bellevue. I'd recover afterward and get my things, find a place in hopes of distancing myself."

"So a little whine 'n dash stunt, is that it?"

"If that's Jamaican for attempted homicide, then sure. Anyway, we'd confront each other at my new place in New Jersey, courtesy of some underground help. She'd—"

"New Jersey? I'd pity yuh mind, were it not deliberate."

"Yeah yeah, spare me the stories of state pride. Anyway, she'd plead, I'd condemn, she'd bargain, I'd deny, until it came to a 'head' that I'd never deliver on her behalf again. Somehow, she'd enlist help and go above and beyond to rescue me; with that choice undone, was over story-time where we'd really make up. Now we're here, ready and raring to fly."

"Be 'dat as it may, yuh get no big ups from me. Cost us a wicked deal of green, including my favourite kind, so gon' place yuh back on probation. Yuh'd better call yourself lucky, are we clear?"

"When neither you nor the Professor can control your own staff, you son-of-a-munchie-lover, you expect me to accept such a decision?"

"It's what I call being a Grade 36 bureaucrat, rum head. Yuh've got no choice and no say here, so back chat me at—"

A slam of the table: "If you really think that, then shove a Manwich in it! My say is how we've delivered more packages in two weeks than you've done in YEARS, off the back of both MY ideas and the Professor's inventions."

Though they had nowhere to go but up, Hermes would admit to enjoying the profits, stocks and satisfaction to soar…

"I know I've done wrong, and I'm not here to ask for promotions or beg for forgiveness. But demote me for that bullshit, and I'll make the CHOICE to rip those secrets away. Now, have we got a better deal?"

Hermes had grown itches to send him away, but he soon clasped chins and rolled his eyes about. It'd have been career suicide now to create such company rifts; two-to-one he'd pay his own quarter too.

"Gonna claim that as your idea? Then YUH take responsibility for a change! Keep the rank, but you'll meet 'de Sun in two weeks if even one crate remains. We clear, bwoy?"

Mayfield kicked himself for gambling his life, but knew in his grimacing nod that, for the dozens of crates swarming the ship, he had the chance to really prove himself to Planet Express.

"You're on, and thanks," as he stood to shake Hermes' hand. "Alright folks, let's get our arses in gear. Daresay we're gonna need ourselves some more miracles, so Professor, get that cloning machine warmed up."

Leela's eye lit up, as she clapped hands: "So THAT's how you insured yourself and us… Well to make double-sure, Amy and I'd better check that we're ship-shape."

A clack of claws to follow: "If anyone ends up in pieces, I could read some human medical stuff, maybe?"

A thumbs-up to all, as a fist punched into his palm: "Ladies of the ship? Gentlemen of the desk? Two weeks, dozens of crates, and an infinite world beyond… Let's rock."

Feeling that rush of milk, sugar and two creams through his skin, Mayfield almost left those ladies behind in his rush to reach those seas above.

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Kid would've loved to wax nostalgia on coverage, but knew deep inside that such times had to wait.

Would've done so on Eagle-76, a colossal sphere where classic and modern America would be celebrated. In that crew's crate, a rare shipment of rings & pennants, ordered by one who'd make Russian spies out of Mount Rushmore. 21st-century collectibles, the only remains of fairytale sporting triumphs that back then, had been decades or centuries in the making.

Perhaps speaking of such sports, the next stop would be Amazonia, where Mayfield got sent to deliver some brand-new netting. Had imagined Wonder Woman sorts to inhabit the place, but real life gave him twelve-foot knockoffs of She-Hulk instead.

They never liked him a single bit, and they didn't understand nor care of the crew squabbles to delay their delivery. No pen even put to paper before they dragged the kid towards the Femputer, who gave a swift sentence of death by something they called 'snu-snu.'

Knew what that meant courtesy of Captain's stories, and instead chose to fast-talk toasts towards their fundamentals. Interest faked in ball dribbles, passing, rebounds and whatever else; only that to save his bits when they warmed enough to let him go, signed notice and all.

No pheromone, aphrodisiac, or white leisure suit in the universe, to trade his second life for THAT.

Comparably smooth runs to Cineplex-14 and Mars would follow, only for the crew to hit another hurdle at the annual Miss Universe contest in Tova-9. The kid sent off again, smelly crate in tow, yet the worst of squirms within came from a certain voice.

Chanced a cheeky peek through the stage curtain, and could've fainted stone cold for seeing the pageant host. That golden-coiffed head, furrowed in a sneer, as they tried to hijack the contest into one of self-promotion. Judging by the bombings of hisses and boos however, the audience wasn't having a bar of it.

Soon had devolved into a spiel about the cuter, chestier and classier ladies of their century, and before long a series of unrepeatable rants. Already out for half an hour, it'd be relief for everyone when he called for a break.

Had Mayfield get in touch towards the ship, quick as he could: _"Captain, you'd best back me up here. Guy's gonna be some trouble."_

They'd all meet outside that gold-doored room, the kid scanning the notice and groaning as the ladies watched, unsure of why.

"Of all the people? Hungry bastard's always cheated contractors, and we're among that crowd."

"So he's loud-mouthed, says stupid things, and fawns about the past," Amy teased. "You two would get along great, so what's the problem?"

"I don't deny saying or doing stupid things Amy, but had you both met me at HIS level, none would recognise my corpse. He's gonna start picking fights, I've got dollar-to-dollar on that front."

"You can't handle a head in a jar… Is that what you're telling us?"

"You of all people should know, Captain. Guns and swords have you die, words can have you WISH to die. Now how 'bout we hope to get this done quick?"

That crate of fast food cuisine not even carried in, never mind signed off, before such hopes were nuked. Bronzed head to give a puckered eye-roll, and a swift order to his handlers to kick Planet Express out. First time the ladies heard of such a trick to escape delivery fees, and for Mayfield, fears that'd be the beginning of something ugly.

"To get things straight, sir, I'm the wrong person to try & convince."

"So you're the do-nothing delivery boy of this lot? Then why are you wasting my time?"

"Because all you did was address me. Go talk to our Captain, if you wish to re-negotiate."

For advising of her, the situation soured quicker than light-speed. Had got her attention from his fit of screams, and a great deal more for the rapid-fire spray of insults. No oozier grin to give as she glowed lava-hot, least before his personal promise to fund and build a wall in front of her planet.

Amy and Mayfield snuck quietly in between, and were almost bulldozed in trying to keep the peace.

"Shwhoa Captain, put the brakes on!"

"Don't scuff your boots, please. Your worst day to his best, there's no comparison."

A leer from that head, whose nose soon stared right down: "This what you good little lackeys get paid for? I'm sealing the deal on this scumbag, so step aside."

Kid kept his eyes laser-sighted on the handlers & security, as afforded one of the guy's once-stature.

"You'll forgive us, I'd hope, for stopping you doing something stupid. For one, we got here by spaceship, and two, you'd only obstruct Earth's view of Venus."

"She disgraces my beloved Earth? Oh God, what shithole place did she slither out from?"

"Let's say I care for your health enough to not answer that. To be frank though, for making the absolute best out from scratch, I'd aspire to her example."

Her red tinge, and a leer to become a glare: "I grace you my presence, to be told I should 'aspire' to that one-eyed sack of trash? Should've shot you Fifth Avenue style for that."

"Listen here 'Exalted One.' Right now you'd best back off with your bully tactics; there'll be no advantage to intimidating us, nor mercy if you plan to proceed."

"It's twenty-against-three, little boy. You think I didn't plan for this in advance?"

"Shall we lackeys leave the room, let our Captain handle the lot of you? Speaking from the heart, I'd STILL put good odds on who'll put what happens in writing… So for the love of money, DON'T get on her bad side."

A sudden switch of tactics: "Think you'll get away with threatening me? I'll have you Chapter 11'd out of existence, and laugh while you burn to ash!"

"Not a threat, just a concern. I speak for seeing that side of her, for actually HAVING limbs to fight back. You think this face scar's for show? Now take my only free tip; pay our agreed price, and don't dig yourself deeper."

"You dare order me around? Should I clue you in, loser, on who—"

"Do I give a good Gods-damn WHO you are? How 'bout you sign this and cut the crap?"

"Interrupting me too? Bend your knee and grovel at my head, or the pen of me, Do—"

Got a mocking curtsy instead: "Then apologies, Your Highness, but we'll be seizing our property back."

"And per company policy, in point of fact"—Leela smirked—"we'll be destroying the contents too."

A sudden burst of speed and strength to vanish the crate from view, crew could only grin wide for the rainbow hue that liquid took on; pale-shock blue, beet-red indignity, purple-faced rage…

"Well? Things to do and places to be, you want your food or you don't?" Amy cheeked.

"I was a former Free World leader, I've been a real estate god, most people once called me the KING of media! Where's the respect I'm owed, dammit?!"

The kid's eyes flashed his way: "Don't flatter yourself. We don't oblige names or reputations when we deliver, and ESPECIALLY not for one who tried screwing us from the start."

That head in the jar to start shaking; worries at first for flying off that lectern outright.

"Don't make me bring out the Twitcher account!"

"Ooh, you big scary head you! Come bring your adorable worst, but you won't get your food. Hell, I'll film it frame-by-frame as it deep-fries in the Sun, and send you a recording. But if you sign, then all those problems go away. Comprendo amigo, or shall I say, you got it friend?"

Never thought it'd work, but soon a signature like a seismic reading got inked on the paper. Happy to finally escape that lose-lose conundrum, Mayfield again contacted his Captain to deliver the food. Almost added bile in the process of doing so; either the crate's smell had rotted further, or Miss Smogmeyer just happened to air past.

Only for boarding the ship did he make his opinion most clear: "Ugh, Fates forbid I meet anyone like him ever again."

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She had to muse for a moment, as Monday reached its end and Earth came into sight.

Even for none-too-cordial crisis meets at the time, Captain Leela chuckled for memories of Bob Barker's head, the once-pageant host for Miss Universe. A quip to leave the kid doing double-takes, least before the irony of his replacement had him snicker. Several decades spent bashing virtually anyone he deemed below him, whoever dared to confront or criticise him, and over the centuries, it'd be served back in spades.

Better news arrived once they landed; first double-digit day in deliveries made, and for either tips or notices to hand off, there was no better sound than scraping paper. Especially for a squealing Hermes.

"Sweet overclock of Inverloch, a bureaucrat's favourite pastime… Overtime!"

Once he checked his things Mayfield got under the shower; first splash barely hit his head when he heard the bare feet of his Captain and her co-pilot. Moment they joined him at either side, his eyes rolled towards the skies.

 _"D'oh, those deliberate little…"_

Not for nothing, his heartbeat had to quicken, cheeks had to redden beyond scarring for his boss. All those sensual bends as she lathered her soaps, the way she stretched about while massaging that mass of silken lavender…

 _"No better temple I've known… Damn this old mind of mine; really cop it if I move or get caught. Come on Tom, you should've figured this'd happen. Enjoy the view, but just keep it classy for—"_

Murmurs to prick Leela's ears, catch him dead to rights. The slyest of smiles as she faced him, giggles when he nearly broke his neck trying to look elsewhere.

"Thomas, your side-eyed stares aren't fooling me… Haven't you seen a naked woman before?"

Only gulps and stutters, a fumble for words: "Oh, ohhh my, umm… _Dammit, what do I—"_

A flip of hair as she reached for her conditioner: "My Fumble-ese is rather rusty; you like what you're seeing, or don't?"

"No Captain, the w-w-w-word you'd want is love."

A devious grin to herself before she glared over his shoulder; kid shelled inside hurt until Amy got his attention. Realised too late that in being his own chiropractor, he did have a peek or two her way.

"Since you're speaking of lovely ladies & all, how 'bout me?"

Another full frontal to have the kid grab the wall, feared he'd collapse for a moment.

"See me, see yourselves, and see we're under no influencers… This even real Captain? Sure we didn't land on some Fantasy Planet by accident?"

"No, we're on Earth, but you two go ahead. Pretty clear that some ladies never change."

"Captain, shmease! Can't I join in the fun?"

"You've GOT someone to love, Amy. Really poor sport on your behalf."

Kid's head could only swivel: "Whoa, whoa, what moment? Ladies, if you think I'm ready to burden your lot, much less you good sorts, then forget it."

Captain could only sputter and shrug: "W-w-wait, you're joking me right? You've got a good job, you're well-travelled, you have your own apartment, and we've beyond the cash to survive. Kid, what the hell else is left?"

"Payment of my debts, for starters. To cut to brass tacks Captain, you've loaned all those my way."

"You can't be… Come on, you can't make time for anything else?"

A pointer and middle to almost poke himself blind, then towards her face as he glared back.

"Captain, YOU bailed me out, YOU gave me a purpose, and YOU made that living possible. My bones would've been picked clean, by Struth, had you not taken me in. So see, hear & know right now, that I'm dead serious. That I owe my life now to you."

"Well I can't take all the credit… But if you're gonna give it, then—"

"Oh sweet older brother, I'm going to be sick!" a snaky voice rang out. "Lady, you're gonna fall for his Olympic-class sucking up? No words of his will ever compensate for his delivery service!"

"Who said that? Who the HELL said that?!" Far from nervous now, Mayfield had veins throb in his neck. Heard a slap of flesh and a cursing wince, before Amy spoke up.

"Ai ya, sorry about that. Talking tattoo from an old tax rebate, a tribute to our Spiderian victory. And for how I usually am with money, he's the sole thing I've regretted getting."

"Christ, and I just got used to this bloody future…"

"That's my family you're taking in vain, Saint Dickless, so watch it!"

"Anything for some Scotch tape… So what would that prick know about 'packages' anyway?"

Never saw Leela jump in so fast: "Before Kif, Amy was quite the 'connoisseur' for anything that moved. That thing, needless to say, has been around for much of that time."

"Leela, shmich! Give him my whole life story while you're at it, huh?"

"Hate to say this, but Devil's got his due this time. Look Thomas, it's not your fault, but 1,000 years of genetic engineering has, to be nice about it, REALLY left you behind. Unless you've always planned on playing solo, I doubt it's a game you'll master."

The tattoo could only chuckle, especially for seeing his other head thud against the tiled wall.

"Captain, for the last time, screw the love game! Forget my dick, for God's sake I'm behind on EVERYTHING."

"Now my father's name too? Quite the blasphemer aren't you?"

A backwards stare of death, before he saw Leela arch up: "Excuse me? That's not true, and you—"

"I look at you two, I look at couples around me, I look among customers and citizens… You think I'd stand a chance here & now, when I'd been worse than nobody over a thousand years ago?"

"Worse than nobody, towards a Cookieville lifer? What's this crap you're talking? You—"

"YOU had no choice but to step up. When you asked the same of me, Captain, I needed the cream to do so, merely just to keep up. Forget just the little fella, I'd always been too soft for any world, never mind this one. Would you, or anyone you know, date such a boy?"

Amy covered her tattoo, laughing in muffles as the kid flicked his tap, grabbed his towel, and dripped right to the locker room.

The ladies could only watch him leave, a murmur for such confessions before they kept showering.

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Those words hadn't stopped stabbing around his head, by the time he stood at the Hudson.

Facing quite the swim just to get home, Mayfield could only wonder why he'd been set up and castrated like that; had known nothing crueller to memory. Only doubts or fears, to spot the shadow of his apartment across the way.

 _"What could I offer, indeed, to deserve anything beyond that riverbank?"_

No longer felt worthy to answer, and worse yet, no longer had his family to offer perspective.

Had begun to rub down his miracles; was hearing Leela call out to have him sprint across the water. At first had hopes that he'd pull off a dock-to-dock run, just as she did, but he would eventually plunge through the water when those thoughts kept reeling him back.

Soaked right through he'd paddle the rest, drip upstairs, and turn the key towards a 'Special Bulletin' beamed live via satellite. Picture burned into his wall, familiar faces of Morbo and Linda to douse all plans of a shower and leftover takeout.

"We interrupt your puny Earthling lives for this announcement. TREMBLE, while Morbo brings you his exclusive galactic interview of Sir Reginald Archbury, renowned philanthropist and conservationist."

Two plush chairs, a table of tea and cookies before them. Really stood back for seeing how burly Morbo actually looked, and yet just opposite him, that red-haired man to make Hermes look skinnier than a streetlight. No doubt though, that he had eyes for the moustache, the gold-lined, tailored blue suit, and the jewellery to adorn both fingers & neck.

"Oh hello, Morbo the Annihilator here, sipping a delightful tea alongside one of the truest giants of New New York. Thank you for joining us, Reggie."

"Greetings Morbo, great pleasure to be here. But please, I insist you call me Reginald."

Cringes had ran up the crook of Mayfield's spine; impressions of used car salesmen for that greasy slick he spoke with. Might've bet money on a Senator or Governor, least before he heard that.

"So tell us of this latest gift you have bestowed, just as far as planet Earth's concerned."

"Very simple, really. One month from now, live from my hometown of New New York, my Audience with Archbury charity gala will be hosted at none other than the Metropolitan House of Opera. Guests of mine will enjoy a splendid three-course meal, spend quality time among the A-listers, and best till last, they'll bid upon my priceless art collection where ALL proceeds will go to charity. But such tickets are in short stock, so to delay is to miss out."

Two middle fingers up from Mayfield: _"Yeah, you can go and shove those where they don't shine."_

Remembering he was still dripping, he got ready to take another shower; closed in towards the projection en route when a creature roared into the hard camera. Almost cracked his head for flying back, yet could call himself lucky just to ventilate.

"Who in Satan's frozen hell was THAT?!"

In fumbling to his feet however, he'd admit to his curiosity being piqued. A hall of famous celebrities from across the galaxy, all to be gathered in one hall. No bigger occasion he could imagine, even got to thinking about the prices, points of intrigue, performances, and other such flavours that would have them congregate from light-years away.

"Well, can't imagine the harm in poking around… Alive or dead, I'm nobody he'd worry about."


	23. Calm in Sandy Ago

A curious rope to lasso a galaxy, and easily enough to brave a bus ride in the morning rain.

Could've done without the big boss's mad mumbles, but even over-shoulder glances didn't stop Mayfield from digging about. All the beakers, counters and damnedest of junk to search, until a stench led him towards sets of cybernetic helmets, gloves & boots.

Shirt shot over his nose upon approach, comments to have the Professor catch him looking.

"They're Netsuits, to end your curiosity."

A muffle from within: "Is that really so? What was the idea behind killing a bloody zoo, just to invent them?"

"Oh they're only rhesus monkeys, we'll always clone some more. Worth the sacrifice, for giving us Internet access, and for whatever else's convenient."

"Internet, you say? Perhaps I could learn a thing or two… Could you help me set up?"

"Why not? Long as it's best for business, you can snack on a man's tasty heart for all I care."

Quick shakes of the head before he tangled against those thick cords, streaks to spit before he got connected and logged in. They'd scan him head to toe, and from that bag of fat and facial scars, he'd become fuzzy green code & static.

Where he stood a dusty gorge, one to overlook a gigantic digital world before him. Home-like city in the distance, a bottomless pit looking over the cliff edge, and dozens of flapping tabs to hover above his head. All featuring 'escort' services, pills, pumps and other such paraphernalia.

Sure left him red-faced, ready to flip birds: _"The hell's that advertising playing at, however did it know?"_

Even for his share of floor gazes to try and sneak him by—had worked against 'charities' before—he soon caught the notice of those would-be warplanes, all of them rushing to dive-bomb his avatar. Fights among themselves to bleed his eyes dry, and quite the bludgeoning as he fought to break loose.

 _"Sons-of, dumb little, mother-f… Ad-blockers were free in MY time!"_

A dozen or so slaps of crosses before he could wrangle free, dive off the cliff, and fly towards the smorgasbord of sites beyond him. The wickedest of worlds upon closer approach; drawn-out whistles for finding sidewalks dotted by adult chat rooms, good-time games, and virtual promised lands.

 _"Seems Avenue Q did become the sagest prophets of all… Wonder what they'd call DuckDuckGo these days?"_

But far from those he only had eyes for the massive fortress that'd been branded Foogle. A dead ringer for the public library he knew, save for wall-to-wall terminals where most did their searches. Power beyond orders within those machines; any obscure subject was said to return millions of results without effort.

And just a couple clicks above his head, a giant network of tubes that had overtaken and burst through the ceiling. Had absolutely blown him away, as he found a free space to get his fingers busy.

Searches by acronym brought up long-dead wrestling companies at first, but once he got more specific, he'd soon spot the gala lurking about the front page. Only a scream to give once he clicked, his being sucked up in a bullet-like warp until he crashed before another cityscape.

Raising his face, he had found one borne of kings' ransoms. El Dorado, as good as resurrected.

" _Hoooooooly… Did it rain palaces over here or what? That lucky bastard!"_

Could only stumble into the spiffiest tower—talk about tough to pick—trying to scan for where those prices were housed. Had been just as wealthy inside as out, and once he snooped enough, he might've needed a new Netsuit for the answer he found…

Five-figure sums for a single event, and for VIP Packages? A quarter million ONLY to kick things off.

 _"Bloke's got boomers bouncing 'round his paddock… He really expect to make money when most of his audience can't attend?"_

For further searching, he began to understand the appeal; check-offs of live orchestras, premium samplings, speeches from pedigreed heads, and exclusive views of once-extinct creatures. As an emphasis on elite-class celebration, he couldn't argue the fact… This'd be quite the jewel imbued in New New York's crown.

Feeling convinced and content enough to leave it behind, he never noticed the arrow to hover by his side, until it caught in his eyes' corners. Further temptations to lead him to the 'About Us' section, to finding the head busts of Archbury and, rubbing his hands, the beast who almost carked him.

Judging from the mullet cut and chain necklace, as close to an '80s vibe as could be reached. And to remind him only too well of Leela, a frown to crack all those thirty-two teeth.

 _"Yeesh, looks more the type to break bones than break out moves…"_

A wealth of other details; had him think of peeking beyond those huge collars and shoulder protrusions, except his alarm started to beep.

Left him ripping the suit off in a panic; nine o'clock when he began pelting about HQ, slathering cream from the lockers to the daily conference. Last name to save his ass, soon fell silent as Hermes rapped the desk for attention, and cleared his throat.

"Alright people, good morning, hope we're fine. Other than the scathing feedback we received just an hour ago, both Hubert and I must give serious credit for yesterday's efforts. But as yuh can see, dere's still much tuh deliver. All we ask is that yuh limber up like a limbo champion, and remain top of our game. Now besides Zoidberg, does anyone have a question, issue or comment?"

"Tch, I'm pretty sure whoever left that feedback, can kiss my big Outback arse."

"Excuse me Mayfield, but we do expect our customers to be given respect."

"Hermes, those who give it shall receive it, and that's all I'll say on that."

Following further minutes & notes, as well as starship checks, cargo packing and affirmations, it wasn't long before Planet Express again soared past the horizon. Getting graced with gifts or goods, given those Godless seas above, might've been the greatest occasion for a select few.

But for Captain Leela and her cohorts, it'd be just another Tuesday beyond the aether.

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"Hey Thomas, you got a moment?"

Had seen him care nothing for conversation nor eye contact; didn't matter that their streak still burned hot. Looked aside for a few moments, trying to figure a delicate approach.

"We've been life-long loners; if I could find love, who was I to say you couldn't? Listen, just wanted to say sorry, sure didn't—"

"Captain, that's enough. And forget the apology."

"Worried me to see it taken so personal, that's all. Especially to have you flee and almost drown."

"Nothing to fear, had a swim lesson or two. And to tell the truth, that's my fault for not heeding your lesson; should've realised that, seeing each other naked, such comments could become candid. Besides, you figured me out before I did; if ever a woman's gonna fall for me, I've a lot of growing up to do."

"That's your conclusion, and yours alone. Before you lost your head, I wanted to make clear that, though the originals would always be my best, you've grown serious potential as a cover band."

"Heaven knows I can't conceal my faults forever. But thanks, to go from drunken roadie to playing alongside, feels like quite a leap."

Seemed happy at first to return to the stars, watch them fly past, until a sudden memory clicked into mind.

"Wait a sec, before I forget… You end up catching that special bulletin last night, Captain?"

"Walking to work I heard so much about that signal, yet you're the first to tell me."

" _It just gets stranger…_ What would you know about this 'Audience with Archbury' gig? He's gonna host at the MHOP, think we oughta have—"

Her evolving chorus of snorts, guffaws and belly laughs stopped him dead, and it'd been no accident for her to command Auto-Pilot beforehand. Had she wrung that steering wheel, he might've become a human pinball.

"Holy hell, that's the best laugh I'll have all week! Let me clue you in Thomas; you host at the Metropolitan, you have an iron-clad guarantee that we're off the guest list."

"Event can get stuffed, I'd rather attend to check out the host and his goon. Shadowy bastard almost had me dirty my daks last night; found them again through the Netsuit only this morning. For the oddest reason, even as I fly in a spaceship, I couldn't peg a person more out of place than them."

"Thomas, we talked about this… You're not hiding anything from me again, are you?"

Had to sigh, least before facing her: "Worst part is, that's where my conundrum lies. Truth is I've another theory ticking inside, but this time, I'd much rather have the evidence in my hand before I go shooting my mouth. I think you could understand the several reasons I'd give, as to why."

A scrunched face to suggest otherwise at first, but soon understood after some thought. Plenty of reasons personal, most by her own hand.

"I see, but let's just focus on the here and now please. Third delivery to Spectrus-19 is imminent."

"At once, ma'am."

Shored up and readied to act as if it'd be any other job, but once the planet burst into view, all he could feel was his knees knocking and a helium of sorts in his heart.

 _"Well make a saint outta shit... Oh my. Oh my, oh my."_

Child eyes could imagine Skittles condensed into a supernova, before it exploded as a brilliant showcase of light and colour over the surface. Naturally rueful that he couldn't record such imagery, he tried his share of delays from dragging feet to talking among energy beings. Heard only crackles of radiation concerns over that communicator, before the Captain rushed out cream and all to drag him back.

Did fall rather sick after they got away; even refused a '50s style lunch of fried foods from fine dames on rocket skates. Seemed it had eaten the cream from his skin; felt much better for it being reapplied as they flew from quadrant to quadrant.

By day's end, eighteen packages would be SSD'd—settled, signed & delivered. Two more hoards for HQ to handle; paperwork for a pleased Hermes, and wads of cash for the crew to comb through.

Calls of the sleuth still rang loud for Archbury's blackened champion, remained erect on his mind despite further giggle attacks in the showers. Only those, the theories, and the ladies' partners to calm him a certain deal; wasn't out to steal one's lunch no matter how he starved.

The Zoidberg of love, one might call it.

Their good wash and his goodbyes before they walked out, all days ended but one. Kid had time to grab some reading material, before he reached his pad to reheat some leftover pizza.

A world of rumours and rifts to crack open; editor's notes about candid shots to highlight a hundred failures or more. Some'd be 'persuaded' out, others would be ripped clean, and the rest would be shredded whole.

And as a warning against wanting the worldwide exclusive, body parts would go in similar ways too.

 _"Geeze, I'd get celebrities wanting their privacy, but to commit that kind of harm? And get away with it too?"_

Being honest with himself, kid had to worry now. Nowhere to run, hide or go for those paparazzi, and they could be the most creative hiders he knew. And he knew how quick a slip-up could leave him fighting for life.

Didn't even get into gathering the proof he promised her… Doing so through those peace officers? No bribe or pay rise in the world could have them touch such paperwork. Lurk about on public servers? As if he needed other eyes prying. And though there'd been a VAST mending of relationship, he dared not cross those Captain's lines again.

Best option of all, not that he thought so, looked to be the Netsuits. Dedication of unpaid overtime among mad scientists, lurking alien crabs, and whichever junkie or crook wanted free marks to rob.

 _"All those gambles, and yet, all part and parcel of paying my debt. Least I owe, for my own hero."_

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Come Friday, even above money issues and backlogs, it'd be 'The Admiral' to bother him most.

Hours lost to exploring every corner he could of Archbury's world, and yet only that new coining across outside media to show for it. No new pictures, no outfit details, and now no promise that he wasn't hearing footsteps, or breaths besides his own.

His scent shot and gaze cold, he thought it a good idea to dust his hands of those mysteries, and ease his mind over some alone time. A bucket, a mop, a squeegee, and some sweet sounds as he stepped aboard the platform, had himself a smile.

 _"What a wonderful world, indeed…"_

Got lost and loved it in getting hooked on classics, as he thundered along to his heritage, or as he pointed upward for any tunes of tribute. A freedom swinging the mop, each flute and fiddle to shine that hull sparkling. Other such solos to have him sweep his squeegee, polish those windows proper. And as he belted out his pipes, a pursuit to the perfect finish by cleaning those specks of dirt.

For all the memories moulded by those melodies, could've reminisced all evening. Special drives to chocolate factories and lemonade shops, where father and son would wax words. All the cafes he'd chow down from, as the world's greatest Mum—he'd argue—did her part to glue them together. The toasts to themselves, through their lagers, English Breakfasts, or a cold Coke.

All those and once-fond memories of his brother to have him shed tears, knowing he couldn't go back. And yet, a strange sense of triumph in a growing truth… His hard work had him happy where he stood, even if he cheated to do so.

A small laugh to have, one to become louder once the flutes, harps and bagpipes of 'Rise Again' came to be heard. For where he'd been and how he came back, had to appreciate the ironies given those weeks ago. That was until he slid towards the ship's underbelly, and a voice had yelled high and loud.

Sudden jerk had his head meet metal, left him to curse for losing. Moving for a better vantage, he spotted none other than his Captain, leaning back at the desk with a wry smile over her face.

"Dear God, you heard me SING?!" as he rubbed his skull. "How long, have you been sitting there?"

"I guess I did, and only a few minutes ago. Could use a little, okay, a LOT of work… But hey, you gotta teach me how you make washing the ship such fun."

"Yeah, sure, once I get through my other engagements. And simply put, that's the magic of music for you. Now what are you doing back here?"

"Just a curious bone to pick… Normally you can't leave soon enough, so why haven't you over these past few days?"

"Overtime, of a sort. Theory was eating at me, so tried out some late-night searches. Course, got nowhere fast so figured I'd do something useful."

"First time I've seen that! Jokes aside, I've an offer for you."

 _"Oh boy…_ Could you give me a ten-second headstart so I can hide?"

"You'll keep your ears, rest assured. So normally I'd have evening plans, but none wanted in. And if you suggest—"

"That you go hang out in Zoidberg's dumpster? Why not, be the best peace and quiet anyone would get!"

"Very funny, smart-ass. No, I thought I'd return the favour for your invite last week. So how 'bout it, care to see the Captain's true quarters?"

Had him roll eyes and stroke his chins: "Think you could twist my arm, though I hope you don't. Just let me shower and freshen up, okay?"

Again told himself to refocus on those partners and 'extended missions', consider as well the possibility that they deserved a good get-together, and nothing more, every once in a while.

Of course, against certain wishes anyway, there might've been a great many secrets still to uncover.


	24. Cold Case Thawing

Late dinner forkfuls at the Food-O-Mat; a fondness to grow over chicken salads and T-bone steak.

Between the dozens of deliveries and extra efforts, the Captain could only grin to blind her charge. And for her stories and newfound belief in him, he could only bow his head before joining her.

"Gotta say darl… Did we kick ARSE out there, or what?"

"Oh we did good, damn good… But I'd compose myself if I were you; gonna need to grind just to steer clear from the cannon."

"Suck in some helium, would ya? It's a bloody beaut thing we've got goin', doncha think?"

Had paused her from munching more meat & greens, before she chuckled and put the fork down.

"You know what? Right now, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. Once believed I'd return on bent knee to my old job, but to be here now, never been gladder to remain Captain."

"Could say the same sitting in your spaceship. I'm just glad we talked things out, even for those showers too. Think maybe, I can picture someone to value the fisherman, over the tackle & bait…"

"You lost me… Floor's yours though."

"Going back to those good old days, you had a story about rediscovering the city of Atlanta, I believe?"

"Oh yeah, and do I ever? A sunken paradise of Southern mermaids, shame that they struggled for tourists. And to think, I'd fish nothing but boots that day, courtesy of Central Bureaucracy's mandate. How does it relate your way again?"

"Given enough effort & motion, I'm sure my rod could reel in the rare fish. One day if I feel so inclined, I'll find the one to call a mate over a meal, outworking those pro reelers for as long as needed. I mean, facing facts here, I'm sure I've got at least some advantage over a harpooner."

A cheeky wink as she laughed, giving a stiff if friendly punch in the arm.

"Least I've thrown the spear rather than talked about technique. Okay, here and now, and between us… Do you know who you'd cast a line for?"

"We really going down there again? I've kissed one girl my whole life, you expect me to be ready?"

"Oh come on, tell me. It's our secret, Captain's promise, "

"Well, if you insist… Of those I've known most, Amy does give me odd butterflies; rarely without a smile, and damned if she ain't capable herself. Sad to say, for hearing of AND working for them, those parents of hers are deal-breakers. Leaves only you, and frankly, Fry knew a winner when he saw one."

Her hand over her mouth, at first couldn't tell whether she blushed or covered a burp.

"You and your sugar-frosted words… After all this time, what got you to speak them?"

"Three reasons I'd think; knowledge, trust and a second chance. Only had theories for my exile, spat weed killer for who I knew, and the world I wandered was done with me. Believed it'd all begin again coming here, but knock on this table, my luck changed for better."

Her pat of his hand before they finished in silence, and let feet crunch concrete in the couple miles towards her home. Judging by the olive-green walls, stained burgundy carpets and Cookieville-like air to hang about, it wasn't the high-class housing he expected of her.

 _"For all her money, it's here she chooses to rest? Guess it's close to work, but…"_

Face fell further for seeing the solitary armchair, the pure white-washed walls, and a single door out of there.

"Fair dinkum Captain, it's here you choose to rest? Guess it's close to work, but for all your money, I don't know how anyone could come back to this."

"Can the formal crap, kid. And how would YOU spend that sudden windfall, if you had it?"

Could only blink his eyes, a stupid gaze about the room until he just shrugged. First time he knew, the answer never came…

"Exactly. Though I had been thinking of a new window or a few plants… What do you think?"

"Plants wouldn't hurt. Feel like I need a straitjacket just standing here."

"Oh please, you've been inside twelve seconds. How 'bout every day, by yourself, for over twelve MONTHS? Anyway, straight through that door, down the hallway, take a right."

Off-duty orders; soon shivers for staring out that lone window. There on that sidewalk he would kneel, certain his life was over before her beatdown almost paid such beliefs out. Two months with change since then, and a grateful headshake for being inside looking out this time.

Course, such a reflection wouldn't be the true reason she'd unlock her door for him.

"Listen, I had a motive. You had me dreaming and thinking since Tuesday; long as we're upfront with each other, I'll do whatever's in my power to help. We clear on that?"

"Loud and clear Leela… Take it this has to do with that theory of mine?"

"Yes it does, especially the part about wanting your evidence first. So what theory are we talking?"

Shuffled his feet towards her, strong grimace as he sat upon her bed: "Speak now if you insist on my silence; understand that if you refuse, I'll be ripping open some sensitive wounds."

"No, think I'm ready… Just break it to me nice & easy, okay?"

"Very well. So you remember that special bulletin I mentioned? The charity gala, and so forth?"

"More like I remember the laugh you gave me. Would it be wrong if I do so now?"

"Please do, perhaps you'll need it."

A little time to recall the conversation, before she broke out into squirms.

"That's my good vibes had, so lay it on me… What's the news?"

"See, in my searches trying to track this 'Admiral', I couldn't be sure of any shapes, not of body nor of face. But all I got were gnawing sensations, when I remembered your stories and photos in New Jersey."

Staring at his knees, he twiddled fingers as Leela hummed it over, a flash soon hitting her eye.

"You mean to tell me—"

"Though I doubt my proof now, I'm of the belief that 'Admiral' was a former Captain."

A clap of hands over her eye, those quivers of dread again: "But how could that be? Fry's been dead since at least last year now, likely fertilising new trees at this moment. That's still a raw nerve to hit, I mean for all that's holy, I never got to bury his body."

"I'll cut it there, just gimme the official order."

"We talked about this already… Why must you insist that he's still around?"

"Since you spoke of superheroes, you had me thinking. I've seen none since I came here, and for whoever rocked that hair before him, they're long-gone now. Found a virtual bust on Archbury's site, that hair as gelled up as ever. You talk of a combo of coincidences, well—"

Her clutch of air: "All this time I've hung my cape, and of all ways to be pulled in."

"I know, I know." His nervous pat of her shoulder. "For clarity's sake, if of course you're comfortable, I'm hoping you can share those stories in better detail."

Took her several minutes to make a decision, eager to discover the truth yet unsure of such a cold case.

"Alright, but you're going through the others too. You know of the crew, about time you knew me."

A handshake before she stood and scrounged through bedside drawers, soon a folder of 'Happy Memories' upon her lap. Mayfield had never known about this album, and hoped it'd be the last time for seeing her flick the pages.

There she sat as a baby in 'Abandoned Property', among filthy bottles and discarded robot parts. Among other pictures, there she smiled in thick glasses & braces, a young girl of Cookieville as two boys laughed & pointed. One that the Warden had to force; necessary evil to keep the place funded.

And then there'd been her graduation, her 'special treat' of senior prom. A decade plus of personal grudges—reasons petty—to leave her dancing alone. And courtesy of certain sorts, the cruellest crescendo she'd know…

Scene for scene of Carrie, only lunch grease over pig's blood, the setting her speech of 'gratitude', and only a horrid wail over inconceivable revenge. All before those tormentors sent her sliding out, mocking giggles of farewell before the door was shut.

Twisted fantasies ever since, and often enacted against the wrong sorts of late.

In moments, the kid's face had reddened, his heart pounding inside his throat. Fingers curled inward to crack, teeth in pain for gritting. Now he knew of her trauma, of why his scream led him into such trouble. Not just on her behalf now, he imagined wrapping hands 'round all their throats.

Took some time to calm down, as then came the pictures of her and Fry together.

Her head to his shoulder, ochre-red studio walls the portrait background. Wild flails at Luna Park; tight holds to each other if not screams & hollers. A good 'ol goof-off among old world wonders, if not holding hands over sand & sea. At work by the spaceship, her sly surprise tackle to lay him down, and a chin-cradled smile for the 'overtime' in mind.

And even he couldn't count all the ways & places that they'd taste lips.

"Do you understand, Thomas? THAT was the kindness, friendship and love I had craved my entire life. Every high, every low, and every day for years, I'd take his being there for granted… Only recently did I think of partnerships beyond, and then the day came when I couldn't."

A trace of his scar in reply, no longer seeing his pain but hers: "When you wore this and worse for so long, no wonder you hated me at first."

Though he still had only the hair to go from, he could only express legit thanks for taking this journey. About to close the book, until the page slipped for costumes to catch his eyes.

 _"Wow…"_

"Well, here was us as the hottest caped crusaders of the city… Once, and the only ones really."

The poise as she posed on nonchalant sides, in hand the collar of a subdued thug or crook… Her confidence as she leapt into action, part of a promotional shoot. The power in her feet, as she stomped crime into the sidewalk…

To see him have it as bad as Noumel-13, maybe more so than crew showers, it left her sniggering.

"Oh keep it in your pants, would you?"

His blush before he slapped his head: "Always had a thing for 'em, heh. Sorry about that."

A refocus to find Super King pushing to be front & centre, and of course Captain Yesterday, ready to bust moves in a dazzling disco number. Up top, little details to poke out.

 _"That hair again, and say, THERE'S the gold chain. Tips of a huge collar, protrusion a cape off his shoulders… Well now."_

Unaware of why her charge went quiet, Leela let him grab the album before she sidled up close. The tiniest of spits into her hands, a little rub, and then a cracking thunderclap to send the kid skyrocketing off the bed.

"Oh good, at least you're alive."

"Gott mein leben! Was that really needed?"

"No, but it was fun. Anyway, all these stories and not even a drink, been a bit ungracious of me. Come along, let's see what I've got."

Her kitchen a simple affair like his, save for her wealth of proper meals and actual good food. Suspected nothing of the domed glass upon her counter, as he scanned elsewhere about her fridge. Bottles of Derrier spring water, a couple of beers, a six-pack of Shiz…

"Even for keeping the beers and sodas between friends, this round's on me. Should still be fine, haven't heard alarms or anything."

More into whiskey than beer, and thinking worse of Shiz courtesy of old game critics, the kid settled for some water as Leela cracked open her bottle. A jump into her recliner, a kick off of boots, and a click of buttons before heaven's gates opened before Mayfield.

The biggest TV he had ever seen, visuals to rival even real life.

Had him lean forward looking to drool, least until his nose caught the stench of a dead creature or fried circuits. His thoughts aired out at first, turned out he'd be wrong on both counts…

"It's my feet, Thomas. Think I didn't notice your theatrics?"

Only gags & sputters, not just for being caught, but for thinking that even road-killed skunks were roses to them.

"You don't become Captain without obsessing over details, and you won't be the last to let me know. Daresay it might be best for us both, since I won't have to bloody my fists or clothes anymore."

"Hell no, don't you dare! That's a visit to The Hague, never mind grounds for war. Just what the f—Ooh, a game show, I haven't seen one of these in ages."

A satisfied smirk as the kid resorted to breathing in his shirt, as commercials made way for 'Who Dares to Be a Millionaire?'

Another of Morbo's gigs, and proof that his hatred of humans wasn't just a news act. In fairness to him, the contestants would deserve those insults & worse; none even reached the guaranteed $1,000 before the air raid siren marked the show's end.

Despite any BO his boss could bring, never a bigger 'El Skunko' that he'd ever know.

By the time he gave his hugs & goodbyes, he could feel more convinced of the link between old and new guard. Time had come to make tracks for the North to South, least until a bigger stench outside her blocks' front doors stumbled him, scrambled his thoughts.

Didn't quite catch the voice, but the sounds of shadowed footsteps would scurry away anyway. Thought little of it just for welcome breaths of fresh air, but might've if he knew who had sent them.

One ready to question the lengths they'd travel, at HIS expense, to understand every side of their story.


	25. A Golden Ticket?

Leading up to the world's biggest party, seemed that HQ's days of disgrace were now distant memories.

On the clock, they'd make old milestones fall St. Valentine's style, while off it, they'd toast to themselves and together in tribute to such rebirth. In those weeks to pass without pause, they could care less for questions of survival, obsessions of such now just mere afterthoughts.

Course, upon passing his own ultimatum, the rookie's regrets would return to surface.

Mid-July Monday, and spirits ice-cold sober for seeing the world change again; his Captain now taking doctor's duties too, Zoidberg nowhere to be seen, and meetings lucky to last a couple minutes as comments and questions were disallowed.

But of most concern was the lack of chatter among crew, especially the folded arms and angry stares whenever he tried. Only immediate orders for him to hit the cabin, his share of tips taken for doing so.

Courtesy of Leela and company over time, the kid's privileges had begun to trickle away. Day she denied his hot shower, after he rotted alone for nothing, he could've begged to stomp the bench into woodchips.

"Okay, did I offend you Leela? You mind telling me what—"

A silent wag of a finger, a sharp bark of goodnight, and her strip-off for the showers and away from prying eyes. Feared to even speak afterward; even in downtime she meant business.

Upon the very first August day, Mayfield would almost kick the doors down, only to lay eyes on the big boss and bureaucrat blocking the hallway. No-one home even for the lights being on, and not even a wrinkle of change once the kid let his lips go loose.

"Okay, I'm sick of this shit… Been over two weeks since I've been cast aside, the fuck's going—"

"Language, Mayfield."

For the stern order, Professor looked nowhere close to his eyes, leaving Hermes to sigh, push up his glasses, and close in. His head to lean back a bit, for levelling to his shoulders.

"To level 'wid yuh, mon, 'dat's just a matter of time. Due tuh unprofessional conduct, Planet Express has exercised its right to terminate you."

"Wait, WHAT?! But all those milestones, all the money, all the… Huh?"

"We shook hands on an ultimatum, yuh failed to meet it. Bidness be bidness, I'm afraid it's 'dat simple. Just took us a couple weeks for the paperwork."

 _"Just when things got good again…"_ A clench of fists as the kid rattled off reasons to remain, the bureaucrat hearing not a bar of that desperation to stay alive.

"I'll help yuh clean tings out, let yuh be ready for wherever's next… 'Dis way, please."

Head bowed and close to tears, kid could only drag his feet as the void of purgatory began to return.

Silence as he stuffed his bag, slung it upon his shoulders, and slumped for the lobby. About to open up & leave, only stopped when a still-arctic Hermes spoke up.

"Others hoped to say goodbye. Would jah do 'dem that kindness, before I call 'de police?"

"Kindness nothing. Just dial the damn number and let me die already."

"Out 'de cannon, or in pieces. Captain's promise, not mine."

Could only growl for the forced redirection, up the lift and out to have him stare down that spaceship with longing. But as he found himself led to the lounge and to total darkness, it was then that he felt something wasn't right.

"After you."

"Hermes, I see no-one here. Now take my chip and stop wasting my—"

A sudden click of lights, their yell of "SURPRISE!" and his scream n' shout before he dropped flat on his ass. Could've had another arrest, yet came to notice the big table lined with chips, candies, chocolates, authentic pizzas, and layered cakes of flavour heaven.

To find those faces beaming in front, was to realise the game they'd been playing on him.

"Why, you sneaky little bastards!" he burbled in between hugs. "How'd you do all this?"

"To be clear, this surprise is more for our comeback than for you," Leela pointed. "We figured though that you deserved to be invited."

As she handed over and revealed all she kept from him, just as he once did, Hermes would flash a rare grin in clapping the kid's shoulder.

"Couldn't overlook yuh choice to cut from us, but I'll credit the fact that yuh took responsibility."

"Mr. Conrad, you stamped my second chance when most others didn't, and that's credit enough, I believe." A palm to his heart, before a fist to the air. "Now enough chat, how 'bout we PARTAY?!"

It was then they'd begin their feasts, dances and games, the janitor's mop soon the prop when the Symphod gave an impromptu play of Limbo Rock. Everybody would take turns to wriggle under that bar, and one got no prizes for guessing how Mayfield had gone.

"Yeah baby, I won! Eat my dust suckers, I'm the true limbo artist."

"Yah would be in head bruisin', bredrin… Take my jacket, and get 'dese notes down."

A bold statement from a big-bellied bureaucrat, yet one to back such words without worry. In fact, he wasn't content to just win by light years, those stretches, knuckle cracks & smirks had him wanting much more.

Constant calls of "Lower!" just to prove a point, didn't even bother the bar despite it growing intimate with the floor. To see Hermes bend his knees inward, shimmy under and smile with scorn, it had the rookie grip the window, leave his mouth like that of a laughing clown.

"Wha? How the, when did you, did I—"

A straightened jacket, a knowing smile: "Retired Olympian-grade Limbo athlete, at yuh service."

"Strike a light, gotta dip my hat mate… Just when I thought I knew ya."

Returning the mop to that red-capped custodian, an interest more for his sprouting moustache than their chat, he had grown content to chomp down cake and pizza, let the others enjoy the games… Least until the lobby's doorbell rang.

Hoped he hadn't been the one to yell "I've got it!" for hearing that hiss, seeing that neck stretched out. Perhaps lucky then, that the snake to greet him just bowed its head over bursting forth.

 _"Mail call for you, ssssir."_

"C-c-c-cheers—he handed a Braino—"and for your trouble."

Might've remarked once or twice for that strange postman, but saved them instead for the half-dozen envelopes making his arm give way. Silken quilt to the touch, a shimmery onyx coating, and the finest of golden trims.

" _Had I not have known better, those would remind… No, couldn't be."_

Found his name in the lot and ripped it across, a scan upon and inside the paper… Eyes might've popped out his head, were they not attached.

Guaranteed date of Sunday, August 5th, and in his hands the ultimate of VIP invitations. Front-row seats to every event and every talk, a chance to personally auction off some art, and even exclusive one-on-ones among the biggest names.

 _"Well bugger me bloody! These can't be real, and yet…"_

Couldn't deny it, in fact, for the cursive scrawl caveat written upon his ticket; demands of 'all or none, one or the other.' Still feared the cruel joke to come, yet he still stepped carefully to the lounge, earning his share of shrugs.

"Guys, cut everything," his voice shook. "Conference room, now if you'll please."

A flat disbelief to confuse crew and colleague, save for the Professor who fumed for being undercut. As everyone took their seats, he rounded on the rookie.

"Maybanks… I call the meetings around here, NOT YOU!"

A complete daze to ignore the warning, before he burbled: "Can't believe I'm about to say this, but—"

"But what, kid?"

"Ma'am, I can't imagine your response to come, when weeks ago this gift would've been absurd."

His wave and handover of envelopes, their rip & cursory scan, and then an emphatic ruckus of hollers, high-fives & hugs. Only Mayfield's clammed-up shell, to have Zoidberg of all beings pay attention.

"Are you alright, my friend? For not celebrating this… Oh God, it must be fin rot!"

"Relax Zoidberg, I'm fine. Any other situation I'd join in, but to get these million-dollar tickets… To catch such attention from Archbury, what DID we do, or I specifically, to earn them?"

Leela could only shift in her seat from side to side, either coffee, nerves or excitement the cause.

"Hell friggin' yes! Had always dreamed to attend a big event like this."

"How does it not strike you as suspicious, Captain? We get these gifts from nowhere, that'd take us LIFETIMES to earn, and for what? Just to dress nice and have a good time?"

"Oh suck in your own helium! The impossible doesn't ALWAYS need an explanation."

"Yeah Thomas, and think about it," Amy joined in. "For how far we'd fallen, how stupid would it be to dismiss an audience of VIPs? Let's just say that, to imagine all the networks and business he could create, my dad would drool."

"Ladies, that's what worries me. Why else would Archbury dangle that kind of bait? Gut feelings on being watched can't be coincidence now; for starters, there's no lottery for such tickets."

"Oh, why all 'de fuss?" Mayfield had to look twice, seeing those feet on the conference desk. "Way I see it, who knows how high we might fly? I know I'd look forward to finding out."

"Hermes, don't cloud your mind now. As improbable buds all, we've sure grown our stems; no telling how much green's at stake. But those we'd mingle with could smoke away a wad of Nixons without issue… Gods forbid they did so in our faces."

Mrs. Astor to thank, for the $1000 bills to adorn the former President's face.

"You won't join them given that attitude!" Professor stood up, a groan for cracking bones. "We butter up our clients, toast to our partnership, and we'll roll in the dough before long."

"Attitude or no, Professor, my bread's just fine to NOT need Archbury in my life." Yet Mayfield had to sigh for the lack of alternatives. "On the other hand, you're right. To refuse that prospective pile of money, after we bordered on bankruptcy…"

A finger to crook into his lips, puzzling, before his attention sparked towards Leela's cry of pain.

"Course, trust my luck that the loathe of my life's gonna be there…"

"Which one are we talking about, again?"

"He'd say he puts the 'E-R-A' in General, yet most others would spell it E-R-R-O-R… Zapp Brannigan."

"Huh, since when was he a problem? Saw those recruiting posters on walkabout, seemed heroic."

"Word of advice Thomas? Never judge a poster by its cover star. There's reasons why to date, I've set those stories aside."

"Oh damn, that serious huh? Well I've no reason to doubt your words of late, so—"

"Speaking of doubts I've never seen you act so hostile against someone, least without valid reason. Just curious, but can I ask why you'd want to avoid this party?"

"All began from that bulletin; lifestyle I could never have but wanted to explore. His guard's roar to kick things off, believed I had nothing at first until the skeletons started to show. Rumours in magazines and newspapers, my theories on Fry, all that ridiculous wealth… Legit reasons, I'd imagine, to keep an eye on me."

Leela left behind a white oval, in rolling her eye: "That's the dumbest statement I've ever heard, and you had tough competition. How could you even PLAN to prove that?"

"Checked his bio before your invite, said he had to steal and fight in the slums just to survive. No extra details on how, before he just acts like a reformed student of the markets. It's that decades-long gap in his rags-to-riches shtick, where I have my doubts."

"Oh for God's sake, I'd say you envy all his wealth & success," came her scoff. "I mean, to that point of obsession, why study and question it?"

"No shit I envy it, but that's beside the point. Do you have any idea how much capital—reliable—you'd require to reach that vaunted 1%? And doesn't it sound suss that he's got only charities to his name? No good fortune of ours won't, or hell, can't, reach his level through simply honest means."

"Listen kid, maybe you need to take a few days off. Think that overtime messed with your head."

"I know I sound crazy Captain, but for all our stories past & present, Planet Express has a reputation. We're not on his level, that's a given, but don't you think he'd take an interest in our rise, and how fast we've done so? I mean, if his decades-long study is something to be believed…"

Once the kid let Hermes speak his language, the whispers began to creep out. Despite security issues, most would-be criminals were scared off by doomsday devices, by the old man responsible for them in general. However, even moguls like Mom had tactics to trouble them; Archbury had to have those and then some, to thrive out here.

"Son-of-a-bitch… All I've done to insure our futures, only for someone else to collect upon them."

"So now what?"

"We make plans Amy, on hiding our creams ASAP. That remains our secret, as much as able. For starters, I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw his blubber."

For all the arguments and points made, Farnsworth gave him no choice but to go. A valid business decision yet an ominous personal one, least for such fine print on his ticket.

 _"All those crimes; stalking, threats under duress, bribery… What else might he have?"_

A thought to call on them all one last time, before everyone got sent back to work.

"Guys and girls, much as I'd curse you for my cardiac attack, I wanted to tell you thank you, I love you… and that for every breath of mine, I promise I'll propel us forth. But let's be crystal-clear, right now."

They huddled in close, looks toward each other as he tried to calm himself.

"Wits about you, at all times. For where we're going, simple delivery's not gonna prepare us."


	26. Spiders & Flies

Three days since the million-dollar invites; no shortage of questions in the three days left.

En route to the A-list celebration, Planet Express preparations became a whirlwind free-for-all; Thursday after work was spent racing 'round the city to insure their miracles. Five stashes known just to those who hid them, and an emergency back-up in Farnsworth's lab.

Were the word to get out, there'd be at least a dozen back-ups to fall back on.

Over crew deliveries, and often, Friday would host debate after debate; whether to pocket some policies, which guests to keep eyes on, or ways to expose and reveal the true 'Admiral'. Cameras were out of the question, as media cycles made clear, and they weren't keen on ripping masks off given what Mayfield spoke of him.

Plus, there'd be too many witnesses of wealth, of worlds-spanning connections, to risk using their miracles. Other than lickety-speed, and only for an absolute last resort.

And Saturday, while juggling such concerns & intrigues, would be saved for shopping. Garment District; for the ladies, Amy's boutique of choice, and for the guys, the esteemed tailors of Giorgio Armonster.

Seemed to take hours; Leela struggled to find fitting clothes, Amy just kept trying on outfits, and Mayfield was left talking in gibbers for facing his fitter. Nine feet tall, green skin, long horns & claws, salivating drool… Did take time for Hermes and Zoidberg to calm him, only to groan every time the fitter stood up and almost pierced his throat.

Yet they'd all remain intact when the big night came to pass, last-minute measures capped off through barbershop, hair salon and jewellery store visits.

Back at HQ, there'd be Mayfield splashing his face for the fifteenth time, careful not to crease or drench his custom three-piece. Thoughts for the Nixon he splurged as he stared down to his dress shoes, black-and-white, before returning to the mirror.

 _"Never have I cleaned up like this before… Wonder where I'd be, for doing so back home?"_

A straighten and tuck, before he returned to the lobby and gazed upon his guests-to-be. Smiles of pride to see his Captain match small heels and a purse with a scarlet sheath-styled dress. After reverse haggles and struggles to choose, Amy finally seized a lapis-blue gown, one to expose her navel and a bit beyond the shoulders. Perhaps a little too louche for such an occasion, though those came from other whispers rather than his own thoughts.

Seeing Zoidberg wave his claw, scrubbing up well in a black, bow-tied ensemble, had him return a thumbs up. His gift of what he'd believe many for saving his life, some dusty spare bills towards the look. A nod towards Hermes, who under the usual corporate look, at least had the decency to wear a formal shirt.

But everyone had to share headshakes for the lone cloud in their otherwise flawless gathering. For all his demands to attend, Professor had prised dragon-like claws over his business funds, no effort towards himself or his representatives. Even for Captain's concerns, he just had a shrug to offer.

"Well, I was already in my pyjamas."

Even so, there'd be none among them to protest any further.

"Ahhhh, to think we're just a delivery business… I'd reckon right here and now, not even God's hot sun could outshine us."

"Bet your life, kid. Save for Scrooge over there, I'd say we've never looked better."

"Oh fuff, I'm not made of money. Leave me alone!"

Hermes stamped approval forms of his own, before he straightened his jacket: "Well, our limo's due to arrive, so once yuh've done ya primps and gussy ups, grab your tickets. And above all else, let's have a good time!"

"Good times absolutely, but remember,"—Mayfield pointed—"wits about you, all times."

Soon came the chauffeur's careful knock, and soon the lads, ladies, and lobster would climb inside, no bigger nor better occasion to hover towards than now.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

However the locals called it, no amount of walkabouts could stop Mayfield from marvelling towards the Metropolitan.

Could only have imagined the history within that palatial marble foundation, adorned by royal-waving angels and topped by a skyward spire. At least until—laughing for his luck—he 'won' those exceptional invites.

A prick of his ears once tickets were punched in; there'd be the orchestra performing final checks & corrections. The nose to breathe in premium alcohols in carved fountains, already attracting their renowned barflies. The eyes to catch dozens of art pieces across a sectioned wall; by evening's end, easily $100 million raised if his research meant anything.

 _"Tch, to think I could've squiggled and scored myself a million… As if I'm living enough of a pipe dream."_

Closer looks however had given him stomach spasms; features like Whistlejacket, Lady with an Ermine, and Napoleon Crossing the Alps among those on display. For now staring over gilded cages, he'd find lions and elephants hopping hoops or balancing on balls. Ears now tuning towards the Darwins, Attenboroughs, and other pedigreed guest heads, speech rehearsals in full swing.

Snatched a glass of top-class cognac upon offer, giving thanks as he took his time to taste it. Smooth as satin down his throat; calming down, he'd gather among crew & colleague who'd already been led to their table.

Quick eyes locked on one person, and never a harsher lesson: _"Must've been a mistake, surely that's not the same—"_

Couldn't count on heroes here; front & centre, man's mouth spilling forth like his waist, swill after swill of liquor down his throat. Cheeks flushed as red as his uniform, his voice over anyone whose head hadn't dropped, whose eyes hadn't vacated. Sitting offside meanwhile, a green alien dressed the same, sighing for each sentence, and pouring every order despite protests.

The more the man tanked up, the more he'd regale—pleasure by malice—about his 'loyal friend.' Following stares aside to camouflage them, he'd shout story after story of their incompetence & disobedience, how only he set their adventures right. Worst of all, that creature had neither the will nor heart to speak up.

 _"Seen my share of shitheads, but wow, what a wake-up call…"_ Sat next to Leela, he'd motion her way. "Leela, look... Lover boy, 12 o'clock."

Glancing over, she'd nearly gag on her water: "Oh Lord, don't give him ideas!"

But far from that impostor's—had to be—buffoonery, Hermes would draw attention himself for shelling up; might've cleaned Zoidberg of every asset he had.

"Sweet cane snake of Salt Lake, we're surrounded on all sides."

"Excuse me, hang on!" Mayfield cut across. "Whaddya mean surrounded, who've you gone and pissed off?"

"Let's take 'dose I see direct in front. Head of Richard Nixon, tried to ruin his election; Mom & Wernstrom, both got reasons to hate our Professor; Barbados Slim, my once-Olympic rival and current wife-stealin' dog; Chef Elzar, who arrested us after our 'complimentary' meal, and finally Judge Whitey, most biased legislator I've laid eyes on."

Just as he was about to offer the detailed scoop, Zoidberg started to clack his claws: "Hey there's Sir Archbury, I love that guy!"

Though the kid caught himself singing _"Yo-ho, yo-ho"_ for that fleet's worth of booty, his impressions from Morbo's interview hadn't improved at all. More dictator than dignitary, more conqueror than charity host, his outfit had those elites blinded in envy while he worked the floor. Only curt kisses and greetings, for they'd see him flanked by 'The Admiral'.

Soon they'd sit down; he'd still chatter about, while his guard stared holes through the silken tablecloth, silent as their own outfit. Noticed nothing and cared less, not even a lady's gaze to stir them.

Was the Captain to catch an accidental one; a flip of hair, a breath check, small adjustments… Reasons why she never quite knew, and only a regretful moan for not being noticed. Love at first sight to scold herself over, yet one fast-footed fumbler would seem to argue otherwise.

"So now what?" Mayfield blurted. "Whatever plans we might've had, they're out the window now?"

 _"Look, just act natural!"_ she'd hiss across. _"We'll be fine so long as no-one approach—"_

"Well, well, well! If it isn't my luscious lady Leela; made for pleasure, built for sexy love."

Hearing that voice had her choke and cough on her bread, only the crew and alien to slap backs and get some water. In doing so he and Amy would lock hungry eyes, and among talks of never leaving the other's side for so long again, they'd be in tight-hugged lip-lock that would inflate his head.

Despite breath to leave even him legless, Mayfield could imagine wishing for that confidence to approach women, as this actor did. Maybe a foregone conclusion, for scanning that chest pinned full of medals. Shone in the bright lights, and more than any seasoned veteran could name.

Course, even for golden rules that opposites could attract, the old crew and colleagues knew far better. And judging by her gritted teeth, Leela had no shortage of stories to sour any chance he might've had. Not that first impressions would've been grand, either…

"So my lovely, after this boring little tango here, how 'bout a bit of Captain's coitus aboard the Nimbus? Been working overtime on my straight-line waltz, cha-cha-cha."

Whatever mating dance he made up, it had poor Leela dig inside her purse, gags to give as she palmed her gold ring.

Guy's encouraging wave: "We're not gonna look this perfect forever, so come on, say thank-you."

"Look Moby Dick, much as I'd love to mambo you to the morgue, I've since found a new fiancé. We've really made it work, even for only being engaged last month. And it's uh… uhm…"

A gaze about in hurried breaths; Hermes, none to bore her more. Zoidberg, never in life OR death. Professor, none would believe her. Amy, well…

"None other than him, right darling?" she finished, a long kiss planted on Mayfield's cheek. Had him slap it in complete surprise, left hand left wide open for Leela to twirl that ring around.

 _"Wait, whoa, since when… OW!"_

Her heel into his ankle, and his answer for the hole she stared through his head.

 _"Oh my God, she WASN'T kidding! Ohhh shit… Well who dares wins Tom, so don't screw this up."_

One heel to rub the other as the far-fetched fiancé stood to the white whale, who could still point that nose down despite his heavy lurch.

Narrowed eyes and murmurs, a silent sizing-up before offering his gloved hand.

"What's your name and what do you do, young man?"

"Mayfield, Thomas Mayfield. Delivery Boy First Class, Planet Express Delivery Company."

"I'm the man with no name… Zapp Brannigan, 25-Star Army General, Democratic Order of Planets." A firm grasp, his fast growing firmer. "Captain of the Nimbus, and Sol System's 'Sexiest Man Alive', four years running…"

Though the muscles inside his hand began to hurt, he knew he had to return the gesture. To establish dominance from the get-go, what an introduction…

"Those are your cues to call me sir, to leave Leela to me, and of course, to leave us be."

"None needed to break your balls, 'sir'. I mean, you did leave them so easy to find. But you'd be wise to learn your place, as I've learnt mine."

No smugger grin Zapp'd ever give: "Bold words boy, but from her latest fling, worthless too. Let's face it, she crawls to anybody she can, desperate to ignore our destiny. I do laugh though; hard to eat burger patties after trying a sizzling steak."

"Don't flatter yourself. By that breath you're cooking, she'd take my TV dinner in a heartbeat."

Only Zapp saw her hand clap her mouth; only she knew why she looked anywhere else.

"Never seen a chump so capable of tough talk. So educate me, do you honestly believe you're fiancé material? Punching rather high, aren't we, to soon be wedded to a Captain?"

"Guess I am, but who got the gold ring?" His smirk, as he flashed that hand. "And free correction, I KNOW I am. Now the lady's choice was clear, so I'd suggest you siddown."

"I do the ordering between us, boy… Funny how she loves you so, so much, yet she never let you score the slam dunk, hit the home run, made that Hail Mary touchdown."

"I've a feeling I hear ya, but how 'bout plain English?"

"Sex! Can you say you've had sex with her?"

Guests to look their way, as Mayfield felt his lips curl: "That's not your business, and I will NOT tolerate that kind of talk in front of her. Now it's not often I give second chances, so take some good advice and BACK. OFF."

"Dear child, just remember her last so-called fiancé. He couldn't protect her then, you won't protect her now. The very minute you falter, and I'll take any reason, you'd best believe I'll become the syrup to her pancakes, fudge to her ice-cream, cheese to her pizza!"

Eyes to become slits as he shoved the kid, sending him into the table. Same look to send back as the kid steadied himself, stood again to that General.

"Right now you're all mouth and no merit, mongrel. But if you wanna back your words, prove you've got the 'guts' to be worthy, there's the door. All I need's the order."

Far from wanting a fight, a flash of whites again: "Don't make an enemy of me, friend. I've the entire army at my feet, I call the biggest names my best friends, and I've a loyal assistant who'd lick my boots upon order. Stand in my way, and you'll be stood down."

Kid's fists to crack as he clenched: "What I won't stand for are your threats, so make a choice… Waddle back on your fat feet, or go out the front on your fat arse."

"I'll give you a chance to consider your words, but next time, I won't be so generous. Farewell."

Brannigan clicked his winks to Leela, called Kif over, and swooned back to grace his 'guests' once more. Nods for the green alien whose goodbye was a mournful one, happiness now dust again as he scurried back and shrunk again out of sight.

Tough-guy façade feeling its cracks, Mayfield collapsed into his seat, head burning in his hands.

"Good grief Captain! Reminders of Tova-9 aside, THAT'S who you're pitting me against?"

"For all his words kid, only one I'd worry for is Kif, and only 'cause he'll do anything. Army's only as good as their leader, for starters, and do you see those guests he's 'entertaining'? You've got nothing to worry about, okay?"

"Great, trust me to get a 'wait-and-see' situation. Though I guess we've been through worse together."

"Speaking of that, and my apologies to use you, but don't get any actual ideas. You know I can't love so easily anymore, and besides, such a back-pocket thing has always fooled—"

"Seems fair given our past, though trust me, I've enough of my own shit to involve anyone else."

Only cognac and conversation to calm the kid, bring back good vibes for a time, before a dress trailed into view.

A black & glimmering number, the mystery woman in it to steal his gaze and leave him wowed. Yet another sort he'd never be; cut like a true athlete, a fire forging in her eyes, and an aura of attitude in each stride she took.

Unfortunately, he had gazed a great deal longer than granted. Eyes had caught his, and far from hello, her lemon-sucked approach had him scurry back, almost butting him for getting in his face.

"You're after some black eyes, asshole? How 'bout you quit ogling me?"

He quivered, turned his face: "Whoa, hey, back up a minute! Swear I didn't mean that, just—"

"Just what, huh? And how 'bout you grow a pair and face me?"

"Makes you feel better, go ahead. Not like I've known women who've done worse."

"I'm feeling competitive, so why don't we—"

Leela sighed, stood and tapped her shoulder: "If you've concerns about my crew, then—"

Lady whipped her way; bared teeth now a smug smile, for seeing Leela.

"Now how's this to stink up our Hall of Champions? Trying again to fit where you don't belong, Leela?"

"Wait just a bloody minute, you two—"

Leela's swift hand to silence him, as they stood to the other: "Jackie Anderson? Who pundits claim puts the 'Babe' in 'Babe Ruth?' Why, it's been years since your Poindexter run, how have you been?"

"Worlds better than you, and only 'cause everyone learned from your example. You don't smash 250 career Blerns, 50 Blerns in a season, or your 25th Grand Slam Blern otherwise. Never would've won every Galaxy Series ring, and Finals MVP trophy, to date either."

Leela just rolled her eye: "Is it not enough, Jackie? Your career shall always stand as a century-defining inspiration, while all I have are hundreds of head dints, a Hall of Shame, and no outs in eighty innings to show for it."

A stare to freeze the hall, as Jackie folded arms: "Of course not, screw your lip service. No matter our century, none shall commit a crueller crime to our sport than you. Had I the power, I'd haul you into every stadium to have fans pelt you with beer bottles. Now to see you mingle among actual achievers, such a joke could turn my stomach."

"You've got my Captain's seat, if you're 'game' enough. All you do is smack balls past stands or into tiny holes, flash your fancy jewellery while signing big contracts. Me? I fly my crew through space, delivering goods, fighting off threats, and trying to prevent disasters, all for crumbs by comparison. So excuse me sweetie, if I bring out my tiny violin instead."

"All my exercise & practice, psyching up to pull a Miller Time… All I give for charities, fans, sponsors and players-in-waiting… All the patience I try to have for stat dweebs and armchair coaches, quoting or lecturing my games… All my hours dedicated towards cleaning up YOUR mess, and THAT'S how you see me?"

No truer dishonour she heard, yet in those slow steps to Leela's chin, she still knew her place.

"Oh what am I saying? Given that pigskin thing you call your eye, I can't believe you ever would."

Kid saw that same eye glow redder than her dress, watched her take moments to breathe deep and clench fists. Had hoped to tap Jackie and advise her, but didn't dare risk wrath from either of them.

"You really wanna kick this hornet's nest, kid?"

"What's the worst you can do?"

"I'll get to that… You believe I'd care about your poor widdle feewings, after the first day we met? Think I'd even listen to, never mind bleed, for you after your backhanded farewells and shooting off your mouth?"

Jackie made to interrupt, but a finger met her lips. Her eyes to flare, then flicker for seeing Leela's.

"I didn't deserve to be so cocky, I don't deny that. When I got signed, all that damned Doubledeal wanted were ratings and crowd buys. Had he been the least bit serious, I could've been a friendly rival. Instead, I've shouldered my blame, I've accepted the facts, and I've moved on."

"That still doesn't acquit—"

"Speak one more word… YOU reminded me of reality, so let me return the favour. To see you whine, bitch and moan when you haven't suffered for CRAP, that turns MY stomach. All you've achieved, all the teams you turned into champions, and you never knew what you signed up for? Yes or no only, any extra will cost you."

"Yes." Jackie spat back.

"Step in these heels for even a second, and you'd beg to give them back. You dare define me by a single career, because you think there's no other way to inspire the world?"

Another go at an interruption, only for an entire hand to cover the mouth. To see Leela loosen up and lean in, one could've shivered had they heard her whisper.

 _"A wise word for the women's standard… Shut your mouth, enjoy your game, and beat it."_

Far from heeding such advice, took just two seconds flat for Jackie to attempt a cheap shot. Took much less to find her arm grabbed, wrenched into her back, and gripped tight. Such expert skill and strength; Leela betrayed a smirk for hearing her wince.

 _"Please honey, let us take this outside. But might I advise on what happens, when you REALLY make me mad?"_

A free finger to beckon Mayfield over, his face still covered as Jackie gave him a scowl. Said not a word; just got in her face, revealed and traced his burns, and slit his throat before getting sent back. By her wide eyes and now shaking body, the message was clear.

 _"I'll only say this once… You won't inspire anybody, when they'll be too scared to see you in public."_

" _Okay, okay dammit! I get what you're saying, just let me go!"_

Request granted, and only a ginger rub to give her arm. Embarrassed by her lesson and fearful of any final word, she could only slink away. Watching her leave, Leela never noticed awe overcome her charge, before she sat back down.

"A true crowning, to pitch that nasty bitch straight out."

"All her success since, yet she never let go of me. Sorry kid, really took no pleasure in it."

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Scary encounters aside, crew and colleague would toast 'round the table towards a bright future.

And after an age it seemed, the entrees and bread refills would come out the kitchen. Prize cuts of meats, gold-leafed salads, food cubes slathered in fancy sauces… A treat to see status on a plate, but nothing for actual satiety as everybody finished inside seconds, and might've done so for seconds too.

"To think for a tenth of the money, we could've bought a dump truck of Submarines," Leela cracked.

Soon came the time to get the VIP treatment; the two big bosses took on their one-on-ones, the ladies and Mayfield went to attend some talks, and Zoidberg of all beings helped with the auction. Turned out he could call himself a doctor, just not of the medical kind.

Over time, all of HQ would punch their full ticket, despite old reputations mixing results more than anything. Some one-on-ones died before they even lived, others took time to hit their auction strides, and one boss stood out, for rather opposing reasons, at those conservation talks.

In the closing hours, as crew and colleague reached their table for the final time, Mayfield had volunteered to eye off 'The Admiral.' Stomachs fuller with drink than food, none paid him much mind as he left the table, telling himself that he should've stuck to the mystery faces.

Constant side-eyes and staredowns, that shadow-clad soldier always in view, as he glanced at all the exotic creatures that Archbury kept caged. In that grand ballroom, he toppled sideways to see a young T-Rex, gawked for finding rare three-eyed fishes, palmed hearts for a literal boxing kangaroo, and fell flat for the honey badger, crab and large snake to close the display.

Or so he thought; froze dead in his tracks for the last actual creature he'd spot behind glass.

Spider, span of a dinner plate, at an energetic crawl all over the pane. An approach more of morbid curiosity than anything; was then that creature took its chance to leap off and, far from falling, began to hover through large, dragonfly-styled wings.

"GAAAHHH!"

"Now that is some special creature, wouldn't you say?"

Slick voice from none other than Archbury, soon by the kid's side as he palmed hips.

"Sure, whatever you say. By the way, bloody beaut job for this bash of yours."

Thin-lipped smile: "Charmed, but a compliment I can't care for. After all, nothing compares to that prize find before you. Last to exist; took twenty hunters twenty years to track for my collection, and many found out the hard way… Don't annoy it, whatever you do."

Mayfield experienced a great growl in his guts, and not just from lack of food.

"Facts and all are great pal, but you'll forgive me for not hanging 'round, I hope. Had some right vicious suckers back home, especially out in the countryside."

"I'm all too aware, and of course, how rude of me. You go ahead, we'll chat some other time."

A rub of hands once Mayfield turned his back, seeing a certain tube stick out his pocket.

 _"Much sooner than you think…"_

Moments later, a few whispers had 'Admiral' show out of nowhere, a revenant to grip a glass of harsh-proofed liquor, going by the smell. Forced down his throat before he could refuse or escape, Mayfield couldn't even scream before a hand cupped his mouth. That stench, those drinks, to lull him into their arms.

Waited for that HQ to take their leave, before ordering 'The Admiral' to carry that body into a camouflaged ship, ready themselves at the controls. Before long the big man would board, a bit of a wallow around until he made himself comfortable.

"Admiral, set a course for home and await further orders. Perhaps I'll write a letter to placate those amusing little dopes."

And as the craft would hover out of sight and blast past the horizon, flying through quadrants and systems known, there'd be further orders to pick the kid's pockets and strip him down, Auto-Pilot handling the work as Archbury cackled for the sight.

"Been buzzing 'round my face for too long, my friend… 'Now this redback's ready to feast."


	27. Snakes in Plain Sight

Even Agent 86 could clue in, to how HQ's once-magical evening had devolved into a shit-show.

For starters, everybody began at least two hours late; debates on a day off as most would sleep in, order big barrels of coffee to ready themselves. Course, they really only needed mail call to blast those bleary eyes awake.

Among bills, a lone, onyx-backed envelope; Archbury's personal salutation as he delved into details about their delivery boy. Seemed in the final minutes, he'd be found among shards of gold and glass, a creature he broke free having left his body prone. Calls of his name unheeded, and grave fears for his health that forced an emergency space flight. Under their care, fingers crossed, he'd be back by today.

But aside from perils once again for their own, there'd be worries for all those sour impressions that Farnsworth had left behind. Facts he remembered all too well, given morning tirades in the Angry Dome, and ever the rant-laced antics after.

"Ooohhh, to HELL with Archbury! Knew I should've brought my suitcase device, have those hoity-toity halfwits beg for my business…"

Further rants to follow; only Hermes to speak on their behalves.

"Sweet vegies of Sir Reggie Professie! Yuh come in your lab coat & slippers, shove 'education' down our throats, lose 'de cool when we don't listen, and then disrupt and annoy every last speaker on stage… What yuh think would happen?"

"Quiet, you! Just might organise some paid vacation for that."

Already suffered that threat once; had him white-faced and shaken, if Leela's sobering up didn't do so already.

"You know something? I always thought that Archbury wouldn't accept his VIPs being harassed, but after Zapp and Jackie, something stank…"

Amy's nod and outward palm: "Worse than Zoidberg, ma'am. Mean, despite working that entire hall, he ignored us despite our waves. You don't suppose that—"

"I've my doubts, but we've only got the letter to go from… Sure hope the kid'll be okay."

Doubts to become panics as the hours rushed by, that no call for either patient or corpse had rung their way. Was a shame, then, that nobody could know how all those freebies would carry a rather pricey motive.

HQ would get too wasted to stick to any plans, while Archbury and 'Admiral' made a goal to confirm suspicions, seek out who'd be responsible from their lot.

And as far as their letter was concerned… Never let the truth come to crossroads with good stories.

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To wake from that autopsy, he'd promise to never chug a cognac—by choice or no—ever again.

But as Mayfield's migraine hummed, his eyes crusted awake, and lips smacked begging for water, he began to feel that he wasn't home, nor the MHOP, nor HQ, nor anywhere he could recognise. Humid air to have him wipe his brow, or so he intended before resistance had him look down.

Not only naked from head to toe, but bound by steel cables and leather straps. A splintery wooden chair poking into his flesh, but no doubt the least of his worries now.

 _"Oh shit, oh shit… How'd I get here?! Now calm down, just a mad dream; close your eyes, count to three…"_

Woke to see a slew of beasts instead; prowling as they licked their chops. No longer safe, and no longer in a dream, his head almost swivelled off his neck.

"The hell's going on?!"

"Wakey wakey, meet the snake-y!"

An echo from who knew where, and a set of hisses as the river of venom swayed forward, soon within three feet of the kid's face. The exact same to deliver the mail, judging by its nod, before its tongue flickered and neck extended…

" _Hold sssstill."_

Once those fangs began to bare, kid couldn't yell nor scream before it sprang into attack; second-long spurts between lunges and rear backs as it bit the chair by choice. Dared not dodge, and couldn't kick out, so just shut eyes and hoped it wouldn't hurt.

 _"Before ssssssuch mercy again, another zero to the price."_

Mercenary at heart, as it slid away without any piece of the kid's flesh.

For such a close look under the Reaper's hood, the kid's body either cut into leather or ripped across steel as he tried to break free. Only to hear the walls reverb again.

"Risey risey, here's the spidey!"

Soft little flits and flickers to drain his skin, could've gone ghost when a Peruvian Spider-Fly hovered into view. A mockery made of both weak blows and word chokes, when it landed on his face and enjoyed carte blanche.

Violent, screaming head swings to be met by raised fangs, before the creature got called off, amid insidious laughter.

"Tear your throat out all you like, boy, but none you love shall hear you."

No mistaking that voice, nor the true monster to speak it, as 'The Admiral' shadowed that every step. Tan safari suit, wide-brimmed hat, ZK-emblazoned leather belt, and a nuclear-powered butterfly net in tow. Towards his 'new friend', snickers especially for their hand tried and truly failed at confidence.

"Zookeeper? You're that b-b-b-b-bastard to put me here?"

"Language, and indeed so! Of all people Farnsworth could and did hire, you'd be the one… A former zombie, to rise that rancid corpse; impressive despite such careless ways."

He'd then lean towards his prisoner; between that breath and Leela's feet, Mayfield would've superglued a months-old boot into his nose. Insides to curdle and soon burn his oesophagus, before they met eyes for the first time.

"Doubt it Reggie, I—"

Sharp slap across his face: "It's Reginald, you rude little lout! Now let's try again."

"Owww, alright, Reginald it is! But hold a sec, what do you mean my careless ways?"

A waddle around as he watched him squirm: "Farnsworth's a genius & my inspiration, but it's his cheapness that costs him. Your presence sullying my golden world wasn't secured; all I had to do was log in and keep an eye out. More I saw you, more I figured you weren't there by chance."

"Mate, that's the only reason you tied me here? I was only curious about Shadow-Head over there, why he roared out my broadcast that night."

"Oh dear Gods boy, no! You'd have been fine were you any other schmuck. But forget my guard; once I talked to some friends, browsed the news, eyed the portfolio… I finally figured your role in their resurrection."

"Meaning what?"

"What else, but you being the miracle worker? Get me now?

"The hell I have, sunshine. By no stretch was it a solo effort."

"I know the ones you work for; if personal history was a benchmark, you'd give yourself too little credit. Seeing you can't go anywhere, perhaps I should educate you… I DO love a ride of nostalgia."

"Oh no, no no no no no… Not the origin monologue!"

"Arnold Drake Statute on Superheroic Battles, I'm afraid… Be against the law if I didn't."

"Whoa, what? Since when would you give a rancid rodent's arse about regulations?"

"The reason I succeed is by knowing which laws to break… Such a statute's not of that list."

"DAMN YOU, HERMES!"

Couldn't count upon a clock as Zookeeper cleared his throat, but Mayfield had no idea how much that mound of flesh was made to learn. Safe to say, he'd never have survived in those same slums…

Born to explorers on the city's outskirts, by any account he'd been an average if beefy baby. Despite decades of his best research, still knew next to nothing of those dreamers, always out to love another creature instead of their own kind. Must've, the way they obsessed over expeditions.

Didn't care how far, dangerous, or expensive the voyage would end up, just that they took it.

Naturally, constant cries would curse the block, to the point where his next-door neighbour of the time would call in the police, Child Protective Division. Poor dear hadn't slept for years—her words—even before then, and by some miracle they were prompt in coming to collect him.

Only to dump them at Central Bureaucracy, get a stamp of 'orphan' on his file, and THEN be left behind at Cookieville. There he'd be defined by chants of "Reggie, Reggie, go and eat a vegie!"

So often he fought back, yet he'd flail, miss and lose every time for several years, laughs to burrow into his head. Thought of suicide by traffic, seemed ready to take that dive until that chance encounter…

Military veteran, a full hat of small change. Had heard them about to 'write names on the wall', and after psyching up, took the moment to slither in, snatch that prey, and vanish around the corner and out of sight. Cheetah's first kill, first taste of success for eating better than soup broth that week. And by pretending he'd been lost, he also learned how to conserve himself.

His first dollars made, and now driven by animal spirits, he'd mark his growth into a hustler's code. Adoption was now for suckers; hopers rather than fighters, sitters instead of chasers.

The often-mocked, malnourished misfit would then spend years stalking the young, old, disabled, or any such combo he could, to grow both his reputation and his girth. In his teens, he'd become a big powerhouse, one who'd sit upon and suffocate those old bullies as he 'shared' secrets.

Revenge served so cold it had several agencies looking to investigate; just to save the rest Warden Vogel was forced to kick him out. Never cared, for he'd made enough to rent a decent room, and even upgrade it to a base of operations. Markets by day, Zookeeper by night, and decades of those dual identities to work into and remain one of the wealthiest citizens of the planet.

Then some years ago, he'd see the spreads and scores on the New Justice Team, a trio of superheroes stopping crimes all over the city. Had hankered for a comeback tour or two, and to intrigue him as such, the Quantum Gemerald that'd stop by the Natural Museum of History in just days.

But such dreams of easy jobs would be spoiled; in exchange for escaping capture, he'd leave empty-handed. Perfect record stained if he'd say so himself, and both a musing and malice that if they beat him once, they'd do it again and again until they cleaned him out.

Course, once he heard that royal braggart all over the evening news, he knew he had everything he needed. Maybe there'd been hopes to attract fan mail, donations or scam ideas, instead he'd be the first to call, with an offer in mind. Lives of 100 random citizens, or the Quantum Gemerald; how they got the latter he didn't care.

Would release them true to his word once the trade had gone through; most would've believed that feud to be all over afterward. Archbury's grudge, however, never left…

Was seeing that cyclops to sow some doubts, something to convince him that she'd come back to settle scores. So fearful that she'd ruin his El Dorado, he'd set out over that year to create the lure, make the call, and split the crew for good.

No better reward than to end that opposition, and no better return to the purest of freedom.

Least that'd be the gist Mayfield got; as minutes became hours his head would drop, and often. Arguably the intention, as Archbury mouthed an order and grinned, hearing the growl and seeing his prisoner's hand gripped.

For all to hear, a sound like sugar glass crisping 'round the chamber. Between their eyes, slow dawns for most twisted ideas. In voice and touch, howls to roar as the muscles and bones in Mayfield's hand became a fine powder. Every nerve and fibre flaring red-hot, tears falling fresh from his cheeks.

 _"A thousand career chips in trade-off, if I could…"_

And far from the foppish mockery now, Zookeeper's tone took an air of patient, dangerous calm.

"Do I have your attention now?"

"The fuck did you do to me?!"

Another squeeze, another scream: "Language! And that should be obvious, the why's because I won't accept sleeping through my stories. So I'll axe again, do I have your attention?"

Couldn't even nod or shake, his chest heaving from cries, before Zookeeper slapped the back of his head.

"Stop crying boy, stop your nonsense!" Eyeballed him again: "Now I've a few questions; refuse or answer wrong, and my guard will 'correct' you. How is anyone's guess, but after your gold ring I gave him, he may crave blood. So, can I persuade you to play along?"

A grim balancing act now ahead; still, imagining all the options for whatever that snake wanted, Mayfield figured that HQ had prepared for the majority.

Certain that he'd have no legitimate ideas, he nodded to let the interrogation commence.

"So, background first. Been some year or so since I cleaved that company and its heroes apart, but lo and behold, they're not only back, but booming. Now I face a real risk of your Captain's return, that I'll lose all those decades spent crawling my way up…"

As 'Admiral' crossed arms, hands still dripping in blood, The Zookeeper leaned in the kid's left ear.

"So first question, how did you help them do it?"

"A healthy, balanced diet and regular exercise, just like anyone else!"

Archbury's eye-roll as he waddled again: "Your peril, from here on, to treat me like an idiot now… I've already got the proof, and you're the one who's bound between us two."

As he slipped a snowman hand into some pocket, kid only shut eyes and shook his head for what was pulled out. Of all people to collect on his policy, should've figured it'd be that overgrown rat.

"Very well, what do you want to know?"

"Why, where you hid these, of course. And do be quick about it, I've other engagements to handle."

"You sure you haven't found any in that chasm-wide crack of yours?"

"Mock me from where you're sitting? Oh dear, oh dear… Wrong answer."

A roar as a fist slammed down over Mayfield's right hand; nothing shy of obliteration that brought forth more screams, more weeps to pitter-patter over the floor.

"Now let me axe you again, where have you hidden these miracles?"

Face warping often for the bursts of pain, it took a concentrated effort to speak.

"Reginald, the city already made crooks of those heroes, don't you get it? Your horse had long galloped for the doctor, won by country miles once you grabbed that Gemerald, BEFORE you made things personal!"

An amused chuckle: "Country miles, how quaint. Did you not get my story, the creed I've bled since Cookieville? Better too much than not enough, better to go for decisive over decision, when your aim's to win. Above all else, as 'Admiral' shall demonstrate…"

Squishes and snaps soon heard from Mayfield's former left foot: "CRUSH the competition!"

Could've been Santa had he wobbled with mirth over malice, wiping a tear or two of his own.

"Ahhh, I kill myself giving such jokes. YOU'LL be next if you keep dodging."

All the kid's focus to stop him passing out: "You think the heroes would've refused a bribe, say five or ten mill apiece? Win-win, when they're set for life, and you own them over that fact. What else could satisfy you, dammit?"

The malevolent glint to go with the ordered destruction of the kid's right foot. As those limbs kept wasting away, and having torn his throat already, Mayfield could no longer give loud protest. Sure wanted to when Zookeeper leaned in, that plague all over his face again.

"What's done is done, such measures would now be worthless. Now I've had enough of your stalling games. Whether I tear you from sinew to sinew, feed you rotten leftovers, slice your parts off with blunt razor blades, or feed you to those creatures, I will get my answers… Gonna push me further?"

Nose-to-nose against the lifetime champion of crimes and torture, Mayfield could only declare his surrender. A fact to shame him to no end, as Zookeeper and guard backed off.

"Couple months ago would be my first delivery for Planet Express, situation to steal my breath and almost my life. Lower back and lungs as good as gone, as I laid there a perishing, pissed-off delivery boy."

"Spare me your monologue, only I have such privileges between us."

"I'll look to cut the crap out; two-to-one I won't remember much of it anyway."

Course it'd be a lie; though details got spotty from the drinks, he hadn't done enough damage to cause severe loss. And as those adventures worked out of his mouth, all meant to distract from those burning limbs, Zookeeper's interest began to crater.

"Really boy? Shall I get Admiral to 'cut' to the point?"

"Rein your mustangs mate, I'm getting there! Look, it raised me from the grave and evolved me beyond anything I knew, least for a little while. One miracle would beget another, and—"

"Let me guess, the addiction to power and money had kicked in?"

"Was all about the Gores and Nixons, at first. Soon realised there was more to debt than money; figured that my Captain deserved such a supply out of gratitude. Turned out we'd have 'philosophical' differences, on what was actually owed."

"So you just took her offer, is that what I'm hearing?"

"What choice did I have, genius? I came to this city from literally centuries out of time, stench of alcoholic vomit soaked in. For all the help I sought, she'd be the only one to take me in. Kicked my arse and no mistake, but I couldn't complain for getting a new job and new place out of it."

From his eyes' corners, he saw 'Admiral' tilt his head. A sign of understanding, if not curiosity.

"Puh, doubt I'd call that liveable. Thought you had higher standards than that."

"As one I'd call a DSUCC, of course you couldn't. But where would you sleep, given a choice between Cookieville & headquarters? Bet you'd have loved clean food & water, a clean couch, hot showers and places to store things in your youth. That second chance was my first miracle, if you catch my drift."

"Any specifics you might have?"

"They kept me out of that loop for, I'm sure you'd agree, obvious good reason."

"S'pose I could have fun reminiscing on old times, tearing the place apart… Please, continue."

"No bigger irony you'll speak, least to everyone else, about how I'd define 'higher standards.' Let's just say that Captain and I would come to confrontation, she'd almost kill me for using her 'last' miracle, and I'd be saved to get an apartment, where I could watch them burn. Daresay you'll find a little stash there."

Now left as good as open, even a small alarm had him cower in closed eyes. Zookeeper just tapped his cheek, a laugh to crack as he changed tones again.

"No fear needed, dear boy, that's my TV show in five minutes. Sure we could both use a break; Admiral, take me to the lounge, and host him at your quarters."

A grunt as the guard carried his master upon shoulders; about to exit out at great speed, when Archbury called out again.

"Oh, and Mayfield, the minute you mess around again, I'll ensure no-one finds your body. Got it?"

Had no answer as Archbury disappeared, before he'd feel the cables get ripped off, as he wound up over Admiral's shoulders and moved down a messy path of rights, lefts & straights. Each sandbagged impact to leave a trail of tears; if he ever got out, least he'd find his way back.

 _"This what I get, huh? Pounded into mulch for a stupid promise? Does it matter anymore?"_

Quarters reached, that #1077 offside to have him raise eyebrows. Stranger still, as Admiral got away from his 'father', he gently rested his guest on the spare before laying back in his own, at first keeping silent.

Seconds became minutes, minutes hours as Mayfield stayed awake, thinking of makeshift prayers just to score points. Least before he heard the faintest of sniffles, a WHOMP of sorts to hit him.

 _"Wait, hold one moment please… So there IS a human trapped inside! And if #1077 means anything…"_

But 'Admiral' would open his mouth before the kid could, a fireside chat far from his mind.


	28. Inside the Lion's Cage

"Bet you're proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"Proud of what? Lying here unable to defend myself, my blood all over a killer's hands?"

Already beyond angry for how they left him, broken hands and all, he looked ready to scrap. More so after Admiral shared theories, dragging names and deeds through the mud…

"So spare me the lies. Think I'd let you play me for some stupid idiot?"

"When all you have's your BELIEF pulled from Fat-Boy's arse, then I'd find no point. Why oppose someone, who'd win such games every time?"

It'd be a remark to summon a roar of rage, a wrap of obsidian hands around the prisoner's neck.

"That all I am to you? We'll see how smart you are, once I have my fill."

As grips tightened, the kid could only thrash and gag about, just a small squeeze away from being silenced.

 _"You think my death's gonna guarantee your merry life again?"_

Not a word of reply, as Admiral thudded the body against the bed.

 _"I'm no friend of yours, it's true, but all this is a world of lies Einstein! I've got less to lose, for looking to offer another angle."_

To certain surprise, a clearer speech would break out as the grip loosened.

"You damn well know it, deep inside. Maybe you'll listen, maybe you won't, but least I'm leaving that to your discretion… How 'bout it?"

The maddest they'd been in a time, yet Admiral dropped him in coughs and splutters as they returned to bed. Would be the first proper conversation he'd have, that he knew of.

"Fine, but your head if you fail."

"Better deal than going blue so, sure. Might've shaken a hand for knowing you, but you'll get just my middles nowadays."

"Whatever, now how did you get here? Same way as I did?"

"Mate, save for job loss and blackout drinking, I'm telling you no different to what I told that polyp-riddled punk. Now if you're the one I spent overtimes trying to reveal, then please put that theory to rest."

"Reveal who? Surely not a fellow loser?"

"Perhaps so; look how we both began. Took just one tiny force to fling us here, why deny such a second chance now?"

"How can you, or even pretend to, know who I am under this skin?"

"I don't, but give me that chance to care, and I'll coax them out yet. I've some stories and simple ways, a few songs too since arriving…"

Shake of the head, yet no alternative they could see: "What are you after?"

"Got myself a friend, if ever I needed breaks from the orchestra. If you could find my suit, we can get that little ball rolling."

Standing from the bed, Admiral placed a handprint and left out the door, rushing wind the only sound of his departure as the kid tried to close his eyes. Couldn't know when he'd return, and owing to the ruined watch, had no clue when and whether he'd fetch Zookeeper to milk more miracles out of him.

Felt like the longest wait before his full suit was returned; fears unfounded as they were helped inside at first. Soon settled for laying it out, several grits and screams to have Admiral wrap a towel instead. A grimace of gratitude, and then a call-out.

" _God, I hope this works…_ Symphod, turn on, come on out."

A few moments to wait, but a great relief to find it hover into view. Permission granted for Admiral to inspect it; cool to the touch, and somehow still intact for the rather rough treatment.

"That, pal, is perhaps my most valued possession yet. From over 1500 years of Earth archives, every last song of any album, and all its variations therein, of the highest quality imaginable. Can even modify the tracks as you like, better yet."

"I see, and what reason would I, to love music like I once did before?"

"Colleague of mine reckons you do, and I've no reason to distrust them now. But if you're not so sure, perhaps we can find out together. Heard so many stories, The Hustle featuring in at least one."

Symphod popped to attention: "Admiral, was it? A Van McCoy classic, timeless even today… How'd you like it played?"

"Uhh, just as is, box thingy. And not too loud please."

Though not known for its lyrics, the effect grew intoxicating before long. From bass guitar plucks and lead-up vocals, to drums, xylophones and maracas in stride, Admiral soon couldn't help but rhythmically tap hands & feet. The moment that famous cry called out, that piccolo burst to life, Admiral stood to revive the 1970s again.

Quite a sight to see those shuffles, spins and swivels, all without losing a step. More so for the sudden stop, for the so-called 'picture headaches' that started to swirl.

"Dammit, didn't mean that to happen! What the hell's the meaning of this?"

"That I was told, the native dance of your people… How so?"

Sat down covered in sweat; magic tricks, newspapers, artefact discoveries, and old workplaces flashing through… The littlest smile for that street mutt Seymour Asses, now delight for seeing him swim in pizza sauce, hearing him woof his sing-alongs, reaching out for him as he'd wait…

Reminded Mayfield of his own; Rainbow Bridge veterans even before he got here.

"Ahhh, reasons among many to love dogs myself. Carried me quite far, when near everyone else dragged me back."

Admiral's first 'hustle' came over an argument; three straight days in sunshine and rain to claim Seymour back. Only an odd comment to achieve victory, but such fond love for past friends had them forget the festering jealousy of a future crewmate.

What he recalled after, no-one knew, but further dints would be belted into the steel wall, Mayfield left scooting back for fear that Admiral's sights would set on him.

Only stopped for remembering the re-rescue, yet it later turned out that Seymour lived long after Admiral's initial disappearance. Thinking such cherished memories deserved rest, that that old mutt forgot him long ago, Admiral refused to continue the cloning.

Never would come to know the original truth of his choice.

"Big mistake taking such love for granted, dude. Real sorry to hear that; give them and any good sorts the world, and they think the world of you. So, any other favourites you might know of?"

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have Walkin' on Sunshine, would you?"

Symphod called again: "Eddy Grant, Dolly Parton, Katrina and—"

"Katrina sounds good, since I've never heard the others… Just as is, and don't spare the volume."

Didn't deny having doubts, but once the drums, cymbals and trumpet kicked in, as Katrina's voice shook those quarters, the torturer would bound out of bed to clap, slap knees and snap fingers. Not quite what the kid expected, to make that tiny space feel like a disco venue.

And after belting that chorus with aplomb, caring not a thing for blowing vocal cords, the magic would manifest. That stone skin began to shed; sure enough, there'd stand the original fastest man of the past. A return the kid wished he could salute, or pump fists for.

"Looks like I'm owed a dollar… Otherwise, reporting for duty Captain."

Not that he was required to, but never before had Fry changed in anyone's presence. Such improved control had him clap the kid's back; strength might've sent him over the bed's end.

"To sing of sunshine again, feel that hustle return… Thank you dude."

"Thank me once we set everything right. For starters, you are the Fry I'm after, I hope?"

"Of course; Philip J. Fry, most folks call me Orange Joe. Least they did before the heroes you've seen, or villains you've felt."

Had spotted his damage and turned away, quarters to scan around until the kid addressed him again.

"Speaking of 'Admiral', how did you become that again? Heard stories of your time in the army, even taking up pilot duties, but that rank was reserved for commanding seamen last I—"

Knew he found his man, when he caught that Captain rolling about the bed, in fits of giggles.

"Really?" he chided, though he soon betrayed a grin. "Laugh later Cap, try and focus here…"

A slump of shoulders. "Sorry dude, just needed to. Damned costume to drag me back; would have me surrounded, somehow knocked out, then woke up to have needles shoved in me. Think we could trade our lives, least for a day?"

"I don't envy you for even a minute, so no thank you. For all our issues, I'd much rather my boss than yours. Anyway, of all places in this universe, why here?"

"I don't know. We'd trade some green glowing thing, go back to normal lives, then get some call from a mystery citizen. Without Miracle Cream, we were boned from the start, caught in a total ambush. First I lose my family coming here, and now my friends get drift—Oh God, LEELA!"

A sudden burst of tears to remember her racing for the bridge, hoping he'd reach her before that fist dropped him cold. Given that eternal gap that Zookeeper would 'glue' together, and for the gold ring glinting in his eye, he again stood to menace the kid.

"You… You dare create a clone of her, just so you could kiss her in front of me?"

"Number one, that'd take a special kind of arsehole, and two, dude, think I'd have any clue as to how? Trust me, I'm temporary enough. Closest you've ever been was that gala gone past."

"Oh yeah? Think you've got any better ideas?"

"Do you ever pay attention to what that moustachioed hippo says? Surely you saw him use that Spider-Fly on me, heard him yammer at length about that perfect criminal streak… How could you believe that he had your best interests in mind, when YOU helped spoil his run as that Captain?"

"Never bet against me being stupid… You'll lose long before I do."

"Wouldn't be THAT hard on yourself, but if you say so."

Such a reminder had the Captain pull out his photo, all those dried tears having warped the picture. An invite extended to the kid, and only a look before he realised he'd have to move himself. Down the back row, that only he made out, someone waving towards the wall.

"Through that geezer I'd get that job; all those adventures and chances at lurve since. Now I can't even sit by his side as he dies alone; some family I turned out to be."

"So such family ties WERE true? Anyway, though he's quite a sick, twisted individual, he seems the picture of health for being so ancient."

"Really? Okay okay, um…" A scan again, and a hint of claw to elicit a sigh: "Of course, Dr. Zoidberg. Went down well with butter & lemon, so I'd been told."

"Then I better bottle his scent… Mate, had we been seconds from starving to death, we'd sooner hit the grave than serve him up. No butter nor lemon nor ANY ingredient could change that."

A good laugh between both, as dreadlocks stuck out this time: "And Hermes? Broke some centuries-old obscure law about stamp excess… How's he taking permanent paid vacation these days?"

"Wait, they offer those? As for Hermes, that's a desperate reach; still sits as Sheriff of Stampytown that I know."

"Oh thank heavens, we're safe at least." The pink sweatsuit to pierce his eyes now. "What about Amy these days? Heard there'd been a falling out, that she wanted to bankrupt us all."

Kid's tongue well in cheek: "Pffft, far from any falling out, she's been the co-pilot during our latest run. Reckon we oughta fire her for such a terrible job?"

"Oh wow!" Finally, the photo clutched firm to his chest, he reached the front row. "Guess I've saved the worst for last… What about the old crew?"

"Bender's still missing that I know of… And what Zookeeper's been for you, she'd been for me."

"Wait, so you mean to say—"

"You never saw the gazes, or her gags once General Gropey got involved? Did you even see my scars, wonder how they came about? Let's just say, to the point we nearly drove apart, she shared the same fears you did. If you STILL think she's done looking for you, get your head seen to."

Far from the tough guard Mayfield knew, Captain could only knock knees and stumble to the bed, tears of potential reunion to shed. Almost bowled the kid over in giving a hug, earning quite the scream.

"Oh, you don't know how GOOD it is to hear all that… She doing okay at least?"

Some time taken, to ignore the pain: "Yeah, to put it mildly? I'd bet my life on 'no.' Lady was a time-bomb when we met, and I'd cut my wrong wires finding out why. Day she poured out about her personal life, biggest epiphany I ever knew. Can guarantee she never needed a costume to pursue justice, try to bring the gang back."

"You ever have a love like that, you'd be a lucky man. So what was that about the 'wrong wires' again?"

"Oof, how long have you got?"

Captain had thought it all white noise from their first encounter to all her suspicions, but he snapped straight to life for hearing about him cracking heads. Had him stand, ready to rip the kid apart as he tore off an olivewood chair leg.

"Harm her? I'll kill you, you bastard!"

"Oh, what haven't you done? No physical harm happened, since she had Miracle Cream. Look, of all people, you should know that no-one thinks clearly when twisting into such rage. I thought she'd drag me back to work; turned out she'd drag me out of Hell instead. Called it even, after that."

"Much as you'll get thanks for the news, Tom, be warned from here… Don't ever try to take Planet Express away from me."

"Sure, and you got it. But to send such a message, we've got some things to do. First, we'll need hard evidence; samples, mementos, trinkets, anything, to show HQ that you're alive. Perhaps a livestream too, so they can see and hear your voice again."

"Grab the box under my bed, should have what you need in there."

"You're joking me, right? How can I do that again?"

"Oh, right. What should I do for the recording, you think?"

"Speak straight from the heart, and save your best for Leela. Play her your song; I'll even lend my Symphod to do so."

"Yeah, just to warn you up front, I'm not sure when you'll get it back. If ever."

"Perhaps can't blame ya for saying it. Second though, we've GOT to eradicate that virus. I don't know where to start, but I imagine the Professor could create an antidote IF we could grab a sample from you."

"Imagine the Professor, got it."

"Uhhh, sure. Last of all, we're gonna burst that greasy boiled master of yours open, educate him that he's screwed the wrong delivery boy for too long. Send whatever you can; balance sheets, criminal records—"

"Sorry Tom, but even from me, he keeps that on a tight leash. Crazy, impossible territory, I'd—"

"Crazy? Impossible? What we once called sci-fi pipe dreams is now everyday life, and you're trying to educate me on that matter? Save your breath; are you in, or out?"

It was through a clap on the shoulders, that Mayfield got his answer.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Time spent hashing out details left just one route of escape; right through the lab. Roaring blares aside for accessing the hangar, Zookeeper couldn't have forgotten his aim to 'persuade' those creams out of the prisoner's hands.

No way would Mayfield escape otherwise; to dissolve suspicion, proof had to be presented.

"Now, what kind of proof could he use?"

"To sell a great lie, get a nasty truth?" the kid suggested. "Say, for instance, that you're going to dump the body on Earth?"

"He'd just go and tell me to use the airlock."

"If he does so, I can't stop him. Not like any guests of his could recall the gala to detail. But I've still secrets to keep, and you can persuade HIM that you've ripped them out of me. Sees me ruined, he'll assume the best, then I can resume a normal life. Least, as normal as a broken body will allow."

Insides had begun to roll, but kid knew he still had quite the life debt to pay. Off the back of Fry's discovery, and a revenge glowing hot, promises had become vows.

"That what you wanna do?"

"Much as I dread the idea, yes."

A summoning of will this time, to bubble back into 'Admiral' and enjoy a carte blanche beatdown over Mayfield's body. Slow, straight-forward, significant; begging and screams ongoing as both arms below the shoulder, both legs below the waist, were left in utter ruin.

Bones cracking, blood everywhere… Screams only silenced by a chop to his neck.

Mayfield carefully carried over Admiral's shoulders, they'd encounter The Zookeeper upon entering the lab, his TV just switched off. Whether he forgot, found some marathon or wanted that agony to linger, no-one knew but him as he approached his guard.

"Where in good Archbury's name are you going? Admiral, we've a prisoner to interview, remember?"

"He's useless to us now. I beat him senseless, found out he hid the biggest stashes from us on purpose. Now gonna dispose of the body."

Crossed arms and wry frowns: "Is that so? Apart from ruining my fun, you're welcome to share."

"Never went outside of New New York, and given the speed you granted me, I'll strip them dry in moments. You've nothing to fear, sir."

"Very good, very good. I knew why I promoted you; such ruthless tactics will serve me, er, us well… Carry on, as you were."

The second big change since Fry's first outsider. To serve his master the same medicine that he spoon-fed him.

No further questions as Fry raised the hangar doors, set the alarms off and made for his personal spacecraft. Knowing the extent of the damage, he set Mayfield inside a stasis chamber, meant to halt time until he got medical attention. A man of controls, and only moments until lift-off, a journey towards Earth imminent.

Perhaps not the fondest reunion between Captains, but in the long term, a necessary one.


	29. Pointed Messages

A routine ride of wormholes & planets, encounters eager to scurry for seeing Admiral's ship.

Pained protests as he woke and propped Mayfield in Zookeeper's seat, automatic belts quite loose. While Admiral tightened them by hand; he tried to figure what kept the kid alive; guesses between adrenaline or anomalous luck at that moment. Couldn't think for too long, as new questions warped to mind.

"Hey Admiral?"

"Make it quick," came the grunt.

"So you've been Bender's friend since you arrived in New New York, yes? Couldn't imagine why for the photos, for perhaps cleaning your clock that night, but maybe you'd know best… What would've made him act out like that, and where do you think he might've gone?"

"Act out? Tom, he ALWAYS spat on the distant seconds, and that included us from time to time. My regret that it'd lead to this world, that I didn't ditch his shiny ass before then. If not on Earth, it'd only be by default that his kind would take him in."

"That much trouble huh? What I'd pay to put you together again… So, how far away are we?"

"For setting Auto-Pilot now, five minutes as spoken… Now hold still."

No way to move, no anaesthetic either, as Admiral started to pull the shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a sec!" A sudden stop, lips curling for doing so. "Haven't you done enough?"

A reaffirming of grip: "I don't have time to argue this Tom. Any sign of mercy now and we're both screwed; besides, not just money we accept as currency."

"There has to be—"

"Would you rather the doctors reassemble you from scratch? Archbury knows my ship in & out, and I've timed this trip to give us the best chance. Now I won't repeat again, HOLD STILL!"

Any further begs lost on that Brooklyn brawler, as he got to making his wish. By the time he did, he had landed facing HQ, doors open just in time to let crew & colleague watch. They had gathered for what they'd hoped was goodbye, yet all they became were witnesses.

For the screams, squelches & splits, all had begun to dial 911, especially for seeing the delivery boy stripped to staunch the wound. Obsidian boot over his chest to shove him off; he'd be splayed and in spasms before 'Admiral' swirled his cape. A point to the kid, before a point to them.

"Bother the Gods again, and you'll be lucky if this is what remains. Don't make us come back."

Mysterious box slid out the craft too, before they broke past the orange skies and into the stars. Perhaps against reason, once she got over the shock, Leela had to yell out.

"Hey asshole, you can't harm Thomas like that… That's my job!"

Scolded herself once she confirmed the damage; stuff she'd shiver for as she carried Professor and raced for their closest insurance. Between his memory and her yells, responders would arrive moments after they returned. No chance to cream him, before he got placed under stasis and stretched out.

Almost missed the climb into the ambulance, just as well Amy waited for her. From where they'd been sitting, as they dodged and weaved through traffic, he looked little better than road-killed rookie.

Through green plastic doors and into emergency wards, a closing time made eye-opening once the two ladies met among staff. Cursory scans to resemble a snuff film; grade 2 fractures at best from shoulder to foot, and organ ruptures to result in a single-digit chance of survival. Hearing of the six-month coma and permanent disability to come, IF it did, had the ladies hug each other.

 _"What the hell do you know, for such a message to be left?"_

Pacing about as the patients avoided her eye, Leela knew that their plan was to improve the odds. At first, seemed obvious; use the Miracle Cream to aid in repairing and reconstructing his body. Was enough worry over the healing factor, coming to crawl for his being comatose.

Let the doctors figure out the complications, since they could glue brains and stitch split heads inside a week. Even for her stash of miracles, she hadn't a clue how long they'd need to figure out this puzzle. Two weeks, two months, either option had the Captain take a chair, hands clasping her face.

 _"Any other universe, and he'd be walking by next morning."_

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As days rolled by, a child-like signature and set of scrawls would provide the severest of warnings.

Unnerved though they'd become, HQ knew they still needed windows to rescue the rookie, weaponise any knowledge he might've gained. Amy had disguised herself as a nurse who'd act her check-ups, before Leela leapt in through the top floor to unplug the stasis, slather the cream, and set him right.

Only seconds to spare before the staff rushed in, for the crew to escape and pray that no-one became the wiser.

Three times a day from morning to almost midnight, all as they juggled deliveries, cargo bandits, and awe-striking forces. Footage shared of Mayfield—of whoever else, really—as letters now inked in the fresh blood of paparazzi were sent through.

Letters that knew where they worked, who had the better history, who 'played' with food more often. For how Admiral would 'correct' disruptions from here on, had the crew biting nails or knuckles.

Worse yet, any further hands of competence were often full. Didn't mind Hermes for he kept the business afloat, but the Professor would often leave her narrowing the eye. A growl to discover the job ads he left about, before her promise to 'deliver' them on his behalf.

Despite minty scents and clear patterns, there'd go a week before the crew took confidence in continuing treatment, against the growing paranoia of staff. Rare bursts of consciousness to create sudden Diamondium skin, mule-like kicks of tools to nearly make patients of the surgeons themselves.

Though they'd admit to prospects getting better; how bleeds became minor, how organs were clear of acids, and how crushed limbs grew salvageable, Taco Bellevue still thought of banning HQ altogether. Just as well they didn't enforce such rules, once they were able to move Mayfield out of ER.

When crew came disguised as 'outer-city cousins' on one occasion, they were left without cream and without places to hide as they saw 'Admiral' sitting there. Even for the slaughter-in-waiting, she got in between; was to their big surprise when the creature just shrugged and stood to leave.

"Made creeping in look easy; were I you, I wouldn't interfere."

She'd puzzled this pattern of late; Admiral loved to mail such words of war, yet when the chance came, they never cared to deliver. And behind their back, she'd admit to an adjustment or two.

Whenever possible they spared time to talk to the kid, Professor's latest busywork to let them enter his dreams. A world of chaos, noise and fantasy to navigate, and even for their reach to rub creams or speak over the weekend, it seemed he paid them no mind.

All he could see following him were garbling blobs in that field of dreams, each wheat stalk a desire of answers, family or safety. Taken him years to arrive here, and he'd sooner leave them behind for taking on this newfound search.

As the summer started to close though, he found their forms grow into better focus. Recognised one to stop his run and enjoy a chat, where she sat him down and rubbed a knee in exposing intent.

"I've no idea where you'll get your answers, and I know I'll break your heart, but all this is an illusion. Whatever you're after, it cannot be in here."

"Who are you to suggest that? I've ran inside for weeks, I just know they're waiting for me!"

"Listen kid, I can't promise they'll come back nor whether your future will brighten. And I get the fond memories for your family, I really do. But inside this world they'll be ghosts, while out there, you might find them yet. For giving you the wings, I've seen how you soared; all I ask is that you fly alongside one more time."

"I'm so scared, Captain. Only been ripped apart out there, against all the good I've tried to do."

"I've sailed those shores solo before… Now we're both in that boat, and good crew's always welcome."

Took more chat and some thinking as he sat there, but his pat on her shoulder gave the answer she wanted. Tour of duty wasn't over, much as he wanted it so, and though desserts of reunion over games tempted him, his plate had plenty more to polish off yet.

A search of skies, a vortex starting to form: "Sorry guys, think I'll be needed elsewhere for a while."

One spirit to show and grab his arm: "You have to go? After all these years, why? We never had a chance to tell you what happened."

Voice to soothe, yet stand him firm: "Sorry Ma, but I gotta end this fantasy chase, much as I wish otherwise. Keep hiding in here, I won't represent us out there, and Lord knows I've disgraced you enough."

That spirit to hover offside, as another clapped a shoulder: "Disgrace us? In long-gone days I'd agree; these days I've pride to call you my son. Our regret that you can't share stories now, but go do what you must do. You know where we'll be if you need a heart-to-heart, alright mate?"

Tears to fall, for wishes to hug them: "Thanks Dad… Back at home, I hope?"

"You bet your life on it."

"Deal. For anyone else who can hear me, you've been the best family a kid could wish for. Other side or otherwise, we'll see each other again."

As so-called kisses flowed, hugs gripped and pats were had, that vortex above soon grew ginormous, its wind deafening as it ripped and tore those fields and ghosts apart. Yet inside laid the most beautiful portal he'd ever seen, reminders of Spectrus-19 today, or of classic puzzle games.

"Here goes, then."

When he took that running leap, the forces pulled him into that void, one to have him flip and float past waves and thunderbolts of every imaginable colour. Sudden cries to find his body begin to break, his arm ripped off again, before those colours became shades.

Soon the light to reach his eyes, a focus for blobs sharpening into shapes…

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Large green curtains and white-washed asylum walls, to have him try and get up.

Realised quite quickly that he could only roll, bound by a body-cast from shoulder to toe. The button to call for help so close in reach, yet a mangled stump to stop him short. Restraints to remind him of panics and pleading screams, the same to now escape from that small child within.

Huffs and puffs to send one nurse to his side, her hair down and eyes as crinkled as could be. Moment he heard a voice, though muffled behind a mask, memories started to trigger…

"Excuse me, do you mind not interrupting my lunch break?"

"Apologies for being rude, but screw your lunch and get your shit together, Miss!"

"Mr. Mayfield, need I remind you that we WON'T tolerate abuse of staff, and that Taco Bellevue will toss you out next time?"

Accent to linger in the air, not that he paid it much mind.

"For how I want to rip this place apart, I'm surprised I wasn't worse. Now what the hell's going on?"

"You tell us! Been a magnet for trouble since you got here; the company you brought along, all our complications, the crazy adventures…"

"Lady, I just woke up. Too early for this bloody bulldust you're talking."

"Fine, I'll make it so you understand… For your freak friends and generous miracles, you've recovered beyond even best-case scenarios."

Mayfield's face flexed; saw her read a small script to feel his synapses pulse: _"Miracles? Freak friends? Generous?"_

It was then he whispered his shares of _"thank-yous"_ and prayers, before he narrowed his eyes to the nurse and flared his nostrils.

"Those 'freak friends' are whom I'd consider family, so you'll do well to quit disrespecting them. Might've made your job easier, after all."

A tinge on their face, and then a refocus: "Smee, er, easier my ass! We've enough problems WITHOUT losing our staff, thank you."

"Fair cop, as any. So nurse, better get the bad news while I wait here."

"In no uncertain terms, you're gonna be on the invalid list. Broken beyond anything we can do."

He thudded his head on the pillow, over and over: "Man, if I could move my other limb… Any way around this?"

"Our hospital's limb-growing tech could help, but two problems. One, you'll be a virtual training dummy for several months, and two, you'll be broke for life if the insurance doesn't cover you."

A desire to hit something, upon hearing it. Every corner cut, repair forsaken, tool left to collapse, he wanted to believe that HQ just couldn't afford it. Turned out everyone from Amy to Zookeeper were right, the head honcho was just cheap.

And out of her own pocket, it'd be Leela to organise it all. No wonder she lived such a plain life…

 _"Damn you, Professor!"_

"Other than that, all I can suggest is that you be grateful for being alive, that you get used to lying there."

"Grateful? The fuck am I gonna do now? I can't have anyone wait on hand and foot for me anymore!"

"Language Thomas! As for what you can do, s'pose you can call your 'family' to grab your things; we've held them in storage until you could be discharged."

"Very funny, now could you call them please?"

"Last thing I need in my life, so forget it. Now if that's all, I'm off for lunch; sigma beta, see ya later."

A hang-ten call sign; shades of perhaps a sorority, maybe college education. Mayfield hadn't noticed over that denial, hurting worse for having no control. A river of curses to spit, before a sudden whoosh through his now open window.

How that happened he hadn't known, but it'd be none other than his Captain to land. She'd signal that same nurse in; they'd lock the door as she bent the bed forward, watching the nurse strip off…

None other than Amy; had to roll eyes for how he missed such clues.

"I can't believe it… Made it for real, kid?"

"Laughed, cried, lost every game… Taken all a man can take, yet I'll stay all the same."

Soon cries of "Ow, ow, OWWWW!" when they went in for hugs. Went in for cheek pecks after, only to scurry back for a stench. Confusion at first, then worry; dreaded to think how long he hadn't cleaned his teeth.

Soft hand each on his foot, the two ladies on the bed's far edges to avoid that Zoidberg zone.

"So how are you feeling?"

"You really gotta ask, Amy? I had my future as good as set up, now I lay as good as useless. And all because I couldn't leave my stupid theory alone."

"Kid, you're better than to be like that!" Leela pointed across. "For starters, we wouldn't have bothered if you weren't worth the trouble."

"Yeah, guess so Captain. So how long have I been here anyway?"

"Ooh damn… Given the gala date to now, I'd believe it's been close to a month."

"What?!" A rush in rolling about, helpless panic on his face: "Son-of-a-bitch, what's happened since?"

"Well aside from teddy bears, heart candies, and 'sympathy' gifts"—Leela scratched her chin—"it's been a bunch of torture footage and letters inked in paparazzi blood. Once or twice, we even faced the guard who mailed them our way."

"The Admiral, huh? Should've been a dead man, for being inside his quarters."

"You weren't that far off, Thomas," Amy shook his foot, his grimace to give. "We got informed of a six-month coma, at BEST. So do tell, please, what the shmell happened."

"Six MONTHS?! Sudden rollicking to make things worse. " _Dammit, ow…_ That I remember, Archbury approached me during the night, right after I'd find some Spider-Fly or something. And as I excuse myself, Admiral would arrive from nowhere to force some harsh drink down my throat. When I woke up, I'd find myself tied down by cables and straps."

Leela palmed her cheek, and Amy almost hit the floor: "Oh, I don't like where this is going…"

"So that chamber footage sent to us, that was—"

"Me all along, yes. And though Admiral committed the deeds, turned out that bubble-bellied bastard gave the orders. To clue you in, if you didn't suspect already… Archbury's been The Zookeeper in plain sight."

Could've heard a pin in a room of cork walls, as the Captain sat desperate to disbelieve him. Yet as she pieced the clues, remembered his ways of before, she could deny it no longer.

"Gods-DAMMIT!" she'd shout, slapping Mayfield's leg instead of the bed. "He already won our war, and still he has to slither in? So he's already known about us, how'd he know about you?"

A grit of teeth to get over that shot: "Our tight-arsed founder again. Netsuits weren't protected, all Shamu had to do was log on our network and keep his eyes peeled. More he tracked me, more he figured me out, hence the tickets to lure me in. Had I said no—not that I could anyway—I'd have denied you all."

 _"As if we didn't have enough to fear…"_ Leela stared past the window, the Sun her only light left.

"Though I wouldn't be too harsh on 'Admiral', in future."

"Sarcasm's in good health, I see."

"If you believe so, then do me a favour. Find my locker and grab that mystery box; I'll deal the deets once you're back."

Leela sped out the room; no chance to talk about stuff n' junk for long before she returned just a few eye blinks later.

"Within that box, bet my money and life that 'Admiral' was, and always had been, a former Captain."

"This again, Thomas? Fry's gone, Fry's dead, and he has been since beyond last year. Can't you just drop the idea?"

It was then that Amy, sensing a need for private discussion, politely excused herself.

"Look how I lie before you, because I refused to. Could you just do me that kindness, since I can't do much of anything now?

"Is that so? What proof have you got, beyond this box here?"

"While he beat me to make entire dynasties dizzy, we shared stories and pictures in his quarters. All began from his sniffles, when they should've been mine. As for the box, those mementos within shall either confirm my theory, or create a dud. That I'll leave to you."

Taking a deep breath as she paced about the bed, Leela prised the lid off to find a stylised 'CY' necklace, a lock of his ginger hair, brand new photos of their crime-fighting, and even a bunch of newspaper clippings. Dead silence, until she just covered her face.

"Is something the matter?"

"All this helps disprove my 'Fry's dead' theory, but you know why I can't call it open-and-shut either. Might've been stuff Zookeeper cut out, his final gift before he slayed him."

Mayfield, unsure of what else to do or say, could only groan before Leela pulled out a device of sorts.

"What in Baron Munchausen's name is this thing?"

"Looks like nothing of our world, that I know."

A beacon of sorts bearing a crest, some twelve inches high. No cameras to offer a visual, and between them both, no clue for the secrets hidden inside.


	30. One Step Closer

Could only give greedy eyes, greasy hands, or drools over glass for his Golden Age of Technology.

Worlds of applications, of people, in one's palms over Mayfield's; pained him that bills, rent and groceries kept him a stranger. Perhaps just as well that he'd never experience those 'wargames', fake casinos, puzzles of luck and other such traps, assets becoming liabilities for pressing the wrong buttons.

Today however, a curious relic to question, inspect and fiddle with, more so when a sudden static charge ripped it out of Leela's hands. Her sudden yell as that beacon flew out, all five pounds of it landing hard on Mayfield's toe.

"Ow! Mother-fu—"

Admiral would appear, anger apparent once more: "Deal for HQ, requires all staff, comply or die!"

Ended as soon as started, and Leela's decision clear before Mayfield's lips even moved.

"Absolutely NOT, Thomas. All deals are off when that devil holds the cards."

"Even Satan himself was once an angel. And when you consider all the chances they had to make corpses of us, yet we're still here, what else could that tell you?"

"That we'd be stupid to keep pushing our luck against them?"

"Think I could bullshit you and run away again? Leela, that 'Admiral' IS Fry!"

"Point taken, but who's to say he's the same Fry under that skin, that voice? You're the only man he deemed could leave alive; sooner send him back to Hell than this hospital."

"Again, what does that tell you? You think he'd have done so out of mercy, or out of a deal? Trust you to break our hearts now…"

She crossed arms and looked away, while the kid looked to himself & the ceiling. Soon a shrug of lips, his own decision made.

"You know what, fuck it. I'll lay my bets; my life on the line to convince you he's here."

It'd take a minute or two to call his all-in bet, but as Leela rang the staff, she whispered a warning his way.

 _"You already know what I'm capable of, kid. So help me, I'll pound what remains of you if you're wrong, got it?"_

"Please, all you need's a good couple of shots."

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About an hour would pass between entries and gatherings in that private room, courtesy of cash deals that HQ would cut. Multiple times the scan would operate, each failure tensing the moment as Leela leaned closer and closer to Mayfield's face.

"Scan complete, passcode please?"

Captain's fist cocked and ready to fire at this stage, when he spoke the first number in mind.

"1077, 1-0-7-7."

"Thank you, communication going live now."

"Now how'd you—"

"The safe, the adventures you shared, his soldier number… The patterns happened, Captain."

Soon a projection of sorts, 'Admiral' to appear before them. A scream to stiffen HQ's spines, a bubbling of liquid to send them to the wall, and then hairs raised for the face and laugh to greet them.

Crew & colleague alike started to shake; Leela would gasp for seeing Captain Yesterday jig about. And as he thought of the old crew's adventure on Wormulon, Mayfield could've drawn a deep breath of air himself.

Slurm Factory tour, among their first rides together. A forbidden secret revealed to have them discovered and captured at the Queen's behest. Back then, in relying on their delivery boy, Leela and Bender knew they were stuck in severe peril that day.

Addiction to Slurm to already consume him, so of course the royal slug would shit out—you heard right—her most condensed ooze yet; what she'd dub 'Super-Slurm.' To see him dunk his entire head into the tub, screeching in desires to return, Leela declared them doomed.

But whether by sheer will or by seeing his friends, that Fry would drag his tub along, stuffing his face before flipping the Captain's switch. Between any goo green or otherwise, to the good sorts before him, he'd clearly found a far better drug.

"First off guys, for giving such trouble and being gone so long, words fail me for how sorry I am. Never knew how to carry on & fight, same stories over and over had convinced me of their truth… Least before Tom forgave me, and shared his."

Their stare to the messenger, to his smile, before they fell short of words for seeing Fry palm his heart, move for his fifty-great nephew. A first of many face-to-face chats that he'd been hoping to have.

"How goes things, Professor?"

"I'm sorry, wha?"

"I said, HOW GOES—"

"Oh, oh, well I guess I'm… Sweet Zombie Jesus, is that you Fry?"

"You know it, you senile amoral crackpot. And for the fears I'd heard of your health, you've no idea how good it feels to see you."

"Might be the only one to say that, these days."

"Took being trapped here of all things, to get the chance to thank you. Gave me a job, dreams to chase, adventures to have, friends to love…"

"Of course I would… Gotta respect my elders."

"Let's hit the malt shop when I get back, okay? Love ya kid!"

A crack at their technical ages before he moved on, as Hermes patted a shoulder and Farnsworth wiped a lone tear. Cared little for anyone in general, but always a slight exception for his excess-great uncle.

"Tally me banana Hermes! What up?"

"My heartrate, to have you here."

"Well lower it like limbo, so you can listen. I might be good for a zombie these days, but I'm so glad those bureaucrats never gave your marching orders."

"Whoever told yuh that, they were blowin' it out their fanny."

"Took forever to realise… You've my thanks for keeping us alive, hope you know that."

"Just what I'm about, mon. Gotta do what you love, even if it's not a good idea."

"If only I could dance along. But for now, to put a stamp or five on it, you're the true Grade 36 we're blessed to have, even if you don't feel the same about us. Take care now."

"Will do, and sweet Admiral of Cape Canaveral! Best compliments I could've got, and I got called technically correct once." A fix of his jacket, to go with a wide smile.

"My lobster dude, should've known you'd never go down with butter and lemon. How could you, when you smell like you eat garbage and does?"

"Damn right!"

"Y'know, being cooped up here had me think about our Claw-Plach, botched surgeries, or sticking things up my sunshine… Gotta say, you're one reason of few for why I kept going."

"Somehow… All I've been to this crowd was a problem."

"Well your efforts often fall short, it's true, but when you'd give everything you have to ensure our happiness, our success… Sure struggle to think of truer friendship."

"Hooray, I'm still a friend! But to hear that from you… _I don't know what to say._ "

Chose to cry over Hermes' shoulder, who far from the expected rebuke, had actually embraced him. Though likely just for the occasion, most jaws could've fallen off for seeing it the first time between those two.

"And how goes our spoiled, ditzy klutz from Mars?"

"Spoiled? Was that really called for?"

"I'm sorry, you're right Amy. For all I've known before and all I've heard now, how could I ever cast flaws on a diamond like you? True as I'm here, it'd be my absolute pleasure to return, so we could talk about stuff and junk again. Please take care of yourself until then, and wish Kif my best too."

Her cheeks to form a sunset of sorts, in silent tears as she hugged her Captain tight. Leela's tender pats and whispers, only letting go when she readied herself for his first words since that mission.

"And speaking of special diamonds, how's my one-eyed Wonder Woman?"

"Fry?" A rub of her eye: "I-I-Is my eye playing trick on me?"

"Abracadabra baby, but the true magic is to see you alive. Every single day, to think any grudges were settled, to hear what happened after the fact..." Clear he still hurt, for the gloved grip of face. "I failed us all by falling behind, for forgetting ancient comic lessons, for—"

"Fry, NOTHING was ever our fault. We all wanted redemption, and he suckered us for seeking it."

Her words and his to unclasp the capes they shouldered; even Kirk could've noticed how loose they swayed after.

"Do you believe you'll ever come back home?"

"Wish I'd the power to tell you Captain, but perhaps, if you'll allow me to reach out..."

Steps forward, hers more hesitant than his, and soon a 'grip' of hands. Far from the unpleasant zaps expected, she'd get that crackling surge through her body, what she used to call 'St. Fry's Fire.'

An interaction she wished she could milk bone-dry, but sadly knew would have to wait.

"Least now I can dream of caressing that eyeball, embracing those arms, swimming in those lips."

"You sure you shouldn't be spewing crumbs for such thoughts?" Leela's attempt to stiffen her lip, failed in about a couple of seconds.

"Should I be? I mean, if it's true what Tom told me, then trust and believe, I could never be more proud of you. Costume or no, you'll always be a lady worthy of respect, of rank and, involving us, of the universe."

Hope beyond a hundred coffees to energise Leela, as further surges coursed through her body.

"First wasn't sure how to express such love, but got the perfect picture headache when Tom lent me his Symphod. I hope you'll agree…" A short call offside. "Play us what I call 'The Captains' Song', just as is thanks."

Not a single clue for such a song, until the kick drums, bass guitar strums, and synthesisers started to kick in. For the realisation over time, of that once-dreaded tune turning delightful, her hands would meet her mouth.

"So Leels, how 'bout a dance?"

With that, she'd take his gloved hand as he 'sang' of crystal raindrops, her smile now his sunshine, in their slow dance to savour. All seemed like a dream, yet as Leela's head met his 'shoulder,' they knew they weren't sleeping.

The ultimate words, that they'd make it if they tried, to come through… Never heard the record that far in recent memory, but as the dance ended and she got help sitting down, she knew those words could stick in mind from here on.

"No matter who or what we have to go through, we'll be back together. Until we are, all I ask for's your leadership and strength, to guide your crew again."

His crouch down & 'kiss' to leave her palming a cheek, before he'd centre himself and address everyone else.

"Oh, and just as a favour, 'cause I know he won't remember, pay Bender a big punch in the jaw if you come across him. Now I'd better go, but know this 'till I return… I love you all, thanks for reaching out, and as always, live long & prosper."

His best four-fingered Vulcan salute, before the beacon sparked and shut down permanently.

Dead silence as Leela struggled to her feet, shaken as Amy and the others followed suit. She never thought she'd hear that voice again, even thought to prepare a life without it. But between the confessions, his pride and their mini-date, she'd soon begin to leak that sense of euphoria.

Tears to hit carpets and blind her before she bear-hugged her colleagues; all of them breathless or cracking bone before she gazed towards her charge. Near-blinded run for him, arms open wide to send him into panic.

"Oh no, no no no no no, please don't, please don't, please—YEEEOOOOWWW!"

Never knew redemption could hurt so much, as to no avail, he tried to wriggle out. Once he cursed his storms, once they both had their cries, he knew the time came to have a chat. Just as well Leela advised her boss to bring his 'Memoray'; every detail they could get would prove useful.

"Sorry for the trouble crew, hope it's been worth it. Now straight to business; first of all, Zookeeper's back, and he knows our secret. Don't know how or when, but we're destined for invasion; figure we'll need a further spread, or failing that, possibly round-the-clock defences."

"Depends on what yuh told 'dem."

"Ripped two stashes from my lips; HQ's and my own. Among the smallest, and yet, one's certainly among the riskiest. If he fears our return as much as he claims, then he could ruin us for good."

"Could be worse, since now we've got ideas."

"Hermes, now's no time to educate each other, okay? Second thing, we'll need Bender back in our ranks, a mastermind to fight a supervillain. Was believed that he'd try to adopt a new life out in this universe... Any ideas among you lot?"

"Why that would be Chapek-9, the Robot Planet," Farnsworth clapped his hands. "Though we're allies, it's only by accord of trading hopeless humans, where they hunt them for sport. Thought I'd send you there, had you failed me."

"Well so long as we're being honest Farnsey… Our miracles tempted me to tear you apart on occasion, enact some positive change around here. Anyway, who fancies a ride to have holes riddled in 'em?"

Leela, her lost memories to rekindle, her body strengthening by the second, stood to attention.

"Wait just a minute… None of us will have to! When Fry and I first became a couple, we heard of this great resort outside the galaxy. Course, no such thing as time off, so instead we stopped off at Build-A-Bot on West 34th, and recreated ourselves. Used our tapes at HQ, stuck our new selves in those seats, and presto, best vacation ever."

News to the Professor judging by his shout, while Mayfield hurt in his hysterics: "God-damn, now THAT'S why you're Captain, my darl. In fact, for thinking about that and our efforts of late, we could create armies and buy ourselves some extra time. Problem now; who's gonna help us handle Bender?"

"I'm your mon, mon."

A simple shake of the head, to have Hermes rip into the kid. "Think I can't handle myself, bwoy? Aside from shall I say, our personal history, I'm not 'de useless one in the cast."

"Useless though I might be, I can say I've survived Zookeeper's worst, and you haven't yet. But apart from that, it'll be us against THOUSANDS of human-hating robots. I'd be a fool to disrespect your battles, but for there being less of you and more of us, our company slogan still stands!"

Hermes only pinched the bridge of his nose, even against Leela's flickers of fear in her eye.

"That slogan forced all our crews to grow up quick. And Hermes, by virtue of the daily Human Hunts, the constant traps, the 24/7 patrols and their crap 'justice' system, I'd sooner be a kid in Cookieville than go back there again. Speaking of staying away, do you mind if I axe you something Thomas?"

"Shoot, I mean, not like I can block my ears."

A small grin, then sudden frown: "Criminal minds or not, why bring Bender back when we've done so well without him?"

"You telling me he doesn't deserve a chance? I mean, even you forgave his 'human' version."

"Human nothing, pal. I hated how you did so at first, but at least you worked your ass off, delivered on your promises. Didn't the photos convince you, on how Bender just screamed liability?"

"Points most valid, but surely we can offer a ticket for him to—"

"That ship has sailed! When he kept putting himself above all of us, our lives be damned, well I'd sooner let that idiot's shiny ass rust to pieces."

Zoidberg soon clacked a claw: "But he had his moments, yes? And if worst came to worst, who better to beat sense into him?"

Captain stared over, dumbfounded: "That's perhaps the smartest thing you've said since I knew you. Maybe as a last resort though; if he won't rejoin us, then I'll beat that bastard till he bricks himself. Let's do it!"

Soon the crew and colleagues rattled off the details; infiltrate Chapek-9, locate Bender, convince his return by any means necessary, and then escape off the planet. All while avoiding the ire of those iron men, a feat perhaps impossible.

As concerns on medicine and business began to take precedent, Zoidberg and Hermes made the wise decision to opt out.

"Perfect, anything else?" Mayfield called.

"Maybe a silly question"—Hermes gave an open palm—"but when do yuh tink you'll come back?"

"Sorry Hermes, but my delivery boy days might be as good as done. Until Professor gets an exoskeleton handy, I'd believe I'm out of miracles now."

"Correction Thomas…"

Soon some palmed fingers, and a sly-eyed, sleazy smile, to worry the kid.

"I might know of one more."

"Um, Leela?"

"What do you say Amy, think the ship could use a scrub-down and check-up? That perhaps we'll grab a couple things while we're there?"

"Sounds just fine to me."

"Thomas, think it's time that I taught you the lesson, that you taught me."

 _"Oh shhhhhh…"_

Her small peck on his cheek, a promise of return, and a farewell before she directed everyone out the door, the real nurse huffing in quite peeved. A short elevator ride down to ground, a decent walk towards the nearby tube, and much to do in the hours to come.

And as the nurse fed him dirty looks in feeding Mayfield, he knew he could only stare at the drying paint, or ask permission to watch TV otherwise.

Turned out his 'American Pie' moment had arrived here & now: _"My sentence begins… First day of hundreds… Heaven help me."_


	31. Latest Lease on Life

"Get your kicks from 'Root 66'; don't bother finding a destination, just come enjoy the journey."

Typical advertising among the convoys, as Leela and Amy merged in then docked inside the dome of Greasy Sue's. A gas and greasy spoon paradise where the unwashed hung out, and for Leela, where spare quarters and greed evolved the delivery boy she knew, into the man she desired.

Coolio's minted head shuffled between her fingers, thoughts to circle her head. How she'd temper herself for facing Bender, how she'd actually pay her 'reward', or perhaps, how Zookeeper would react against her defiance of late.

Vultures picking at her brain as she drizzled dark matter fuel into the tank, before she called Amy to start working the ship. Gave her a chance to tiptoe into the men's toilets; quite the feat for a sole woman in that stop, maybe the entire cluster.

Through the busted door, her eye to catch the graffiti; not always in spray or pen. Cracked and stained toilet, smell to evoke mutters of _"Ew!"_ as she focused on the vending machine. 'Fresh' egg salad sandwich; almost left her adding chunks as she paid for, and stuffed it, in a protective bag.

 _"Not sure how Fry, but sure glad you stomached it… No better time for such gifts than now."_

A snatch of door to shield herself, and a call of final checks before she heard catcalls, saw a sway of hips her way. Chunky man in red cap, stained singlet and filthy jeans to do the dance; saved him a big bras d'honneur before she boarded, manned the controls and launched out.

Least he'd laugh that off; had Admiral been there, she dared not imagine the mess to clean-up…

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"To think mere months ago, she'd have left me for dead…"

Back on Earth, though boredom and bad pains already pissed him off, Mayfield would admit to being blessed for knowing HQ. Whether in seas above the skies or this concrete jungle now, that crew and those colleagues, such Queens and Kings, had kept him marching in life's cosmic chess game.

Not bad, for a kid fated to be on the front lines.

Speaking of that lot, he'd just had his latest of several naps, woken not by grief this time but by the entire staff staring him down; spotted Leela's pursed and flushed face in particular.

"Son-of-a-bitch! Is it that much to ask, for a little warning beforehand?"

Weird noise from his Captain's lips, trying to collect herself: "We'll promise to stop scaring you, but only for our gift. Everyone, if you'll please."

Suspicious eyes raised for the strange domed helmets they activated, as Leela fished about. Only an open zip needed to have the exposed one crinkling; could only squirm and swivel once she peeled that wrapping off…

Two slices of white caked in mould; in between the scents of years-old mayonnaise, an afterbirth masquerading as an egg, and a soulless husk to top that sorry affair. Telling how Leela bit her tongue, certainly for him almost breaking necks in trying to escape.

"Dear GOD, that's rank! What do you—"

"Well, we did plan to feed you, but—"

"Nope, nein, nyet, nada, no way! And I thought the Zookeeper's breath—"

"Speaking of whom, unless you wanna remain here and let him kill you, you've got no choice. And just to be clear, YOU'RE giving the life lesson. That enough to trust me here?"

Could only growl and search around; all the meals in the world only to get this one. But though the stench scrambled his brain, had him dry-heave, he figured Leela would've used common sense if she hadn't known of it. His roll of eyes and short sigh thereafter.

"Why you crooked… Alright, fine. Just hope you don't lose any fingers though."

"That's the spirit! Now open wide and chew thoroughly, we've got to get it all down."

Instant regret upon first bite; spit might've redefined light-speed had HQ not prised his jaw shut. For minutes become months, his every sense fell under peppered assault; in between bites a chainsaw roar of curses, spit and crumbs. Got the last piece down, only to hear them fall about in hysterical tears.

"Don't think I'd forget your bullcrap back at New Jersey, Thomas. Still, you've earned your forgiveness, and over time, you'll earn your fair reward too."

"I get outta this bed, you damned she-beast, I'll—"

She didn't hear him for again bursting into laughter, as Amy took over: "Cruel as that was, we'd best get set up. Give Professor a week, and as for us, think a small army would be worth the funds?"

"Much as I'd love to lay waste to Zookeeper's home, that workshop's no factory," Leela gathered herself. "Hell, we bring an army to those sufferers on Chapek-9, and they'll be scrap metal before long."

"Okay, how 'bout a dozen or so?"

"Could ensure a good spread, though Hermes could figure the logistics better than I." She then slammed a fist into her palm. "Alright, let's get started. Hopefully we'll be back to help, to collect, our cursed charge over here."

Wasn't above another giggle as he gave an ugly look, ready to soak his sheets again.

"Promise on my family's graves, I'll cook and eat every one of you alive if this doesn't work."

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen. Sweet dreams kid." Giving a royal wave as she led the others out, she'd shut the door behind her.

Soon wasn't just the taste to wreak havoc; in that world of pain, Mayfield felt a new landmass forming in his stomach. That he didn't know, came courtesy of the dozens, scores, then hundreds of creatures marching in lockstep.

Worm-like parasites at first microscopic glance, little different apart from one who capped a crown over its head, climbed the sandwich's remains, and cleared its throat.

"Subjects, as your Lord Mayor of Cologne, can you hear me loud & clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Excellent, now first things first, I must be upfront… For having no silverware on board, no clear indication of injuries, we're bound to have tough days ahead. By royal order, for our host's and our own wellbeing, I'll expect round-the-clock efforts from you all. Does anyone have any objections?"

"Sir, no, sir!"

"Report back any immediate priorities, so we can split ourselves accordingly. Dismissed!"

Final salutes as they spread out, soon glances upon the ruined wastelands, ashen dust, and cleaved tree trunks of what'd been bone & muscle. Who knew when the Lord Mayor got the reports, but as he read through, it left him splitting out of instinct.

All would move to separate sections, where the suggestions came in full force. At first, workers thought to clear the ruins, rebuild the body out of whatever the sandwich gave them. Shot down for having no silverware city; no quick movement of supplies should anything impair or impale.

Another yet would report of 'Miracle Cream'; didn't even get fifteen seconds in before that Lord Mayor clapped him upside the head. 'Fingers' no bigger than atoms aside, the extreme climates would've ended them in an instant.

As slaving over plans turned days into a week, they knew that beyond baby steps of keeping him alive, they could only set his cravings in place. Nothing they could do to make their home comfortable, as the true Lord Mayor reflected upon his throne.

 _"Whoever saved our Stupid Ages slob the last time, let's hope they do so again."_

Between the sandwich, the smell, the struggles to sleep and now the delusions, Mayfield's mental state had taken a battering. Worse than having his long-dead leathers pressed in his face, and on top of that, he still had no evidence of his Captain's latest lesson.

"Fuckin' hell, it doesn't end! What's happening to me?"

It'd be ten days after consumption before the crew paid him a fortunate visit, one to help him swallow a couple of Professor-patented pills. A throat stroke, a gulp of water, and fast words of goodbye before Leela's finger flicked his lights out.

The sleep of sorts he'd need, and inside his gut, creatures rejoicing for their mini-silverware. Before long, the whirs of power tools and rumbles of rumba music could be heard, new days to trickle by as nurses monitored his latest return to Dreamland. Would've checked up, had it not been for cash.

Though Leela's laugh had left him wondering about her intentions, he couldn't tell that from faint hairs to toenails, those worms had done what Bellevue couldn't do.

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To see this nurse be sick out the open window, it was quite the sight to speak of.

For both the numbness and her reaction, Mayfield might've imagined that he had died, or had begun to waste at the very least. No odder sensation, especially to feel those twitches inside, see his body-cast swell.

"¡Ay, ay, ay, Dios no me ama! No mas, no mas! Damn kid, have you tasted your BREATH lately?"

"Lady, besides being fed that baneful sandwich, and some pills sometime after, I've screw-all idea on what's happening. I had hoped you'd drop in to tell me."

"Bet my 4001k that it's those freaks again. Maybe we'll check inside your colon and get the truth."

"Freaks in what sense?"

"Well, our hospital's abided by a Hippocratic Oath for two centuries, and then some bespectacled prune and his flunkies showed up. We mention that Oath, he goes 'Oh fuff', and then directs that gang to pay us further. Impromptu experiment, he'd call it, and on an unconsenting patient no less…"

"Nurse, it'd be to your bliss that his true depths remain quiet. Now listen, I've got things to do so could you please remove my body-cast?"

Said it so casually he had to whisper to himself, more so when the nurse's laughs rattled the walls.

"Sir, when I said I'd test your colon, I didn't mean right this moment. We gave you six months minimum, and that's how long you'll be here for."

A look outside, before he shut eyes: "Fear I'd better educate you a little. Had to strike a twisted deal to get here; if their true boss caught wind of it, they won't hesitate to carve out our headstones. Several, if necessary. I ain't got months to wait, so either help me out, or I'll bust outta this myself."

Thought about what he was saying, as this time, a belly laugh erupted 'round the room: "I've heard some whoppers in 15 years as a nurse, but you've just topped the charts. You've been a freak anomaly to survive this, but that's it!"

"Such a thing's all I've been since coming here. Though I can't disregard your opinion, I'm willing to bet the head of Gore that I'll be just fine once I'm out. How 'bout it?"

"Wait, 500 bucks? You've got that kind of money to toss away? Fine, be my guest… You're on!"

All giggles as she undid the cast, a nice necklace in mind until Mayfield spun around, slid to the bed's edge, and stood straight up. If it wasn't the realisation of doing so, it'd be his missing gut to drop him back to bed, screaming. Hands all over his skin, as the nurse tried to calm him AND herself.

"What in the hell—Okay, deep breaths, take some time, we'll go step-by-step. Okay?"

Eyes like he'd seen a ghost, only a mumble of agreement as he stood up again. First test of sits and stands; flying colours. Stretches from shoulder raises to squats; no sign of bother. A use of grippers; just gasps toward the hand. A walk around his room to leave the nurse muttering, and the kid falling to his arse in rapid breaths.

That he could see, he no longer had the 'snowman fingers' his brother teased him of, nor the boab-like thighs or the stomach of Saint Nick. Now certain that the crew had caused such delusions, he almost ran into the shower to scrub, soap, soak and gargle for dear life.

 _"Reality check, dude. Reality check. You're just dreaming, there's no way you're out of—"_

Course, once he dried himself and wiped away that steamy fog, both he and the man staring back would again awaken the dead.

A sculpted jawline, a figure rippling with abs, a mighty mountain peak for flexing his arm. Irony of no longer being a product of bad nutrition; splashed water over his eyes as his head again swivelled about.

"What the hell happened, I've got my body and then some? What the hell's going on 'round here?"

Could've flown over, swept the Earth with smiles aplenty, least before cupping his mouth. For there he'd flash a perfect set; difference between old and new to almost have him chew his knuckles off.

Minutes of pinches, face slaps and soft headbutts, before he allowed himself this miracle beyond understanding. One to leave him slapping floor, before rising into a lean-backed roar for this lease on life.

Wrapping his towel, he might've bounded out the bathroom to find clothes, only for his Captain and her co-pilot to halt him. His sudden yell of surprise, and their launch backwards as eyes watered from his whiff.

"Oh Lord, your breath reeks! If you had brushed instead of lounging in bed all day, we'd—"

"Don't you bloody blame me, you bugger! You know damn well what you—"

"Yeah yeah, now stay right here so we can clean your mouth out."

Both ladies would leave and eventually return carrying his hygiene products. Would be about an hour of sprays, flosses, polishes and mouthwash, before they didn't have to fight each other for the window.

"Ahhhh, a sweeter scent I've never smelt. Thank heavens."

"And thus endeth the lesson," Leela grinned. "Turns out, miracles DO come from the damnedest things. Oh, just in case, here's another gold ring."

Twirled on his finger, before he gave the biggest hug he could: "First lesson I've truly been glad to learn," as he let go. "But what possessed you to get that sandwich, how did that ever come about?"

"Same sandwich Fry ate; as we speak, you've got worms now."

"Why in the HELL would I want those?"

"Because they'd evolve Fry as they evolved you. He'd steal my heart away back then, not just by words & deeds, but through music too. Sadly, when he realised, he wanted the 'real him' to be loved. We'd falter after he regressed again, but afterward, he'd write a genuine opera for me. Fair to say, we became a couple again."

"Wow… To think he could've had any lady for what he ate, and yet he'd sacrifice and dedicate so much just BECAUSE you meant all that to him."

"Didn't seem that way at the time… Anyway, Operation Two Cubes awaits, you ready to go?"

Following a nod the discussions and worries came thick & fast. Robot clones could make for convincing humans with the right tools, but beyond that, they looked like cheap propaganda of what man believed robots to look like, decades ago.

After oppressions, injustices and slavery, such insults might've nuked any civil relations then & there, IF they didn't opt to shoot them anyway.

But it'd be after final meals, hasty preparations and goodbyes that the crew would set fists in, and set course for Chapek-9. Where even for nicking their skin to prove wiring, even for parking far outside the boundaries, there'd be no telling of what they'd have to confront.

Good whams in the gut for all as, short of all-out war, Mayfield imagined the problems they could expect in their first proper reunion.

There'd be enough to handle, and heaven knew they could never be ready.


	32. Reunion, No Union

Quite the attraction of New New York, to watch those thousands be loaded aboard the ships.

Tense negotiations between DOOP's leaders and the Robot Elders would ink a landmark deal, terms to cast criminals out forever. Of course, a ruling of Judge Whitey's sometime after had condemned the poor as such; no better way to cull the useless, far as he was concerned.

Robots didn't care, for they'd get quite the treat to break those piñatas blow by blow. Once beyond repair, they'd then be caged, convicted, and bent before those Elders; red menaces to confirm at length their time as lesser beings. And all that before the Ceremonial Killamajig came out…

None had a stomach iron enough, least of all 'Robo-Tom' as he encountered the 100-foot enforcers, skyward blockades, and heat-seeking cameras. Leaks could've become slicks for seeing those posters and billboards; propaganda of the Anti-Human Patrol, and twisted takes on the 'Got Milk?' campaign.

 _"Good fuckin' grief! The hell did we DO to these guys?"_

A jabbing thumb of his rib: _"Hey, shh! They've every last lens and antenna on us, one wrong move and we're good for scrap."_

Wouldn't have believed her if not for the crowd to come forward, forcing 'Robo-Leela' to grab her crew's arms. Only by wiring did she convince that tribe, yet she feared their intrigue over them posing as humans. Computers calculating like mad, especially for one burly specimen in particular.

"What do you mean? You'd be perfect; stupid sacks of meat wouldn't know the difference! Why, it'd be comedy gold to see their faces as you betray them." A scrape of metal for rubbing up top: "Sad to see, they don't build drives of ambition like back in the day."

The crew shaken both on the ship and on surface, as she cleared her voice-box.

"Sir, we're just three prototypes, against thousands of desperate survivors. Even as the superior species, one can never misjudge the numbers. Matter of fact that's why we came here; hoped to seek a friend who knew of such 'divide & conquer' tactics. Any chance you spotted them?"

Dug out an old clipping of Bender, an old lady's purse in hand as he kicked her, at which point the old timer backed off.

"Ahhh, my apologies. Persistent and resourceful lot, I can't disagree. As for Bender, he's been a blessing since he showed up. Didn't just improve our human traps, but he's ratted out countless flesh-bags, hiding from deserved justice."

"Sure sounds like him," she hummed. "That's our guy, hundred percent."

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

"Sorry, that's our robot, our robot. Hard to switch tongues, being in the human ranks so long."

"I see. Well, can't go wrong I'd compute; put all his reward money into a Mayoral campaign, and won! One debate, to elect him in an absolute landslide. Strange though, how we've heard nothing of the others since."

 _"Don't know him like we do, then,"_ she'd mutter offside.

"I'd believe he'd be right down this road; can't miss his quarters. Happy hunting, friends!"

As the crowd dispersed to let them through, the human crew could only hiss around; Amy's palms to her mouth, Mayfield gripping his skull, the Captain about to pull hair.

 _"Holy shmell, did he just say—"_

 _"Didn't pull any legs there… Bender's now Mayor."_

 _"Oh Lord, it's Osiris-4 all over again."_

From a simple snatch-and-grab to a Fort Knox gold heist, this was no longer the cruisy crusade they'd hoped for. Heavy security aside, and no doubt for reasons they all knew well, Bender had to have plummeted DEEP into his chasms of hatred.

"Well that's really boned us hasn't it?" Leela declared. "Why would he ever come back now?"

"Beats me, but deep in his core, I'm sure Bender would rather pursue the world than be gifted it."

Quiet discussions on board while the clones found the Mayor's home; floor to floor of his badges, artworks and portraits an instant giveaway.

 _"So much for General Zapp's inflated ego. Guess I'd better apologise when next we meet."_

The kid's murmur as the guards would greet them, questions and warnings aplenty before they'd get in touch…

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"Bender is great! Bender is great! Bender, Bender, Bender! Bender is great!"

Flexing vocal circuits with a fancy cigar in one rotor, full decanter in the other, would be that lout over a lord. The foghorn-grey figurehead having the time of his life, at first glance, when the in-house phone started to clatter.

"Don't you stupid peons remember my tenth Commandment? It reads, and I quote, 'Thou shalt not disturb Bender during His private reflection period."

"Apologies sir, but we've three robots who wished to 'seek revenge' against their oppressors. Infiltrators I'm led to imagine, though they call themselves prototypes. Begged to see you, learn from the best."

"Fine, send them in. 'Tis my sacred duty, after all, to teach my ways to the youth."

Quick note prints to make his 'Legends of Bender Rodriguez' required reading, and then back into singalong. Didn't even notice nor care for the doors to open, for who got sent in, or for anything until that voice stopped him stiff.

 _"All you've ever done was fail us, so WHO are you trying to convince?"_

A flail of panic, and soon a flesh-scalding glare for facing Leela. The reunion he hoped he'd never realise, his stare hardly moving an inch as he dialled a number.

"Guards? Clear my schedule, give me privacy… Seems I have an impromptu family reunion."

In all their oval, circle and square eyes, hot off that fatal choice, a stew ready to boil over between those cooks. And no cordial start, when the Mayor almost stabbed Leela from his pointed finger.

"Of all people to see me, I get the sorts who can bite my shiny metal ass the most. So, my traitors in infiltrators, what brings you here?"

"Oh, just seeking the King who ditched his crown, condemned his friends, scrapped his fellow beings to get here… And Mayor, speak for yourself on stabbing backs."

"What can I say, is it really a dump if it's not memorable & devastating? Especially when now I speak as the greatest Mayor to grace this planet? Maybe if you cared, you'd come and find me before I took this seat."

"You think we haven't tried? To our regrets or not, you've meant everything to us, and I'll be damned if I haven't done my—"

"SHUT THE HELL UP! For Mom's sake, how stupid do you think I am? You traded my magnificence for this pants-pissing, one armed chump!"

A point to Mayfield, who began to clench fists: "Yet I still fight, Bender, more than I can say for—"

His chin grabbed from afar, squeezed tight as Bender got in his face: "That's MAYOR RODRIGUEZ to you, mirrorhead! You'll never have the right to call me that."

Kid's eyes would dilate, yet he dared to speak: "I could call you far worse, from what I've heard & seen. How do you believe my burn scar came to be, how I lost my arm to begin with? Only had to remind Leela of you, you tin-pot defect."

A hard shove to precede a point: "Must I remind you of my Ten Commandments boy? First one is 'Thou shalt only speak saintly of Me, Bender.' So I'd suggest you watch your mouth, 'lest you lose a lot more."

"I've got your number one commandment, sunshine!" A flex of his middle, to further steam the Mayor: "What are you gonna do, smite me? Think I'm afraid of you?"

"You will be once I bring out the Killamajig. Now for the last time, SHUT your mouth!"

Both would advance forward, growls & grits of teeth: "That I will not do, for Killamajig's nothing. Fear a far bigger fish beyond these skies; wouldn't have risked our arses to find you otherwise."

"No bigger fish in these seas than Me, Bender, so I'm not going anywhere. Now if you're—"

"Tell that to the one you RAN from."

Metal on 'metal' as their heads would meet, a slit of eyes between both.

"Speaks of quite the coward, to abandon your friends and still think you're top shit. Oh I'm sorry, is that how you'd define sainthood? 'Cause you were anything but back then, and ESPECIALLY not these days."

A sudden headbutt to send the kid sprawling, Leela scrambling to stand in front.

"I became the richest, most recognised robot from nothing, and you DARE question how?"

"Do you really believe all that will last, Bender? Then, now & since, we've had a common enemy; you know damn well that such perfect lives are the first he targets."

"You can't offer me a single thing to go back, fat eye, so why—"

An insult to earn a shove; soon her deft dodge of Bender's head to flick his switch and shut him down. No further issues, yet, as Leela helped her charge up, and they'd get to whispering.

One eye or two, none could argue that they'd have a tough time dethroning him. But out of stories and prompts, they figured they had a solid foundation of payback. If the Mayor wanted to dump his dearest friends, so be it, they had their own ways to make that official.

And compared to Chapek-9's vanilla life, they had the 31 flavours of Earth to assault him with. A scan of the lacquered desk, liquor cabinet, cigar displays and walls of portraits, before Leela brought Bender back to life.

"Well guys, guess we're screwed here," came Mayfield's shrug. "We could shut him down and stuff him aboard our ship, but doubt His Highness would stay for long. Then again, I wonder what Earth could offer."

"Why, anything of his desires, I'd think," Leela would nod. "Seems a shame to have such a clockwork life, to sit here and do the same thing every day. Amy, you remember our friend don't you? All his booze, all those he suckered, all the TV sessions, all the adventures?"

Her grin to follow: "All those and floozies too, Captain. Odd how he'd just throw it away."

A mock curtsy from Mayfield: "Your most honourable worshipful distinguished Majesty… Was it true you could make the worst human drunk look like a successful sobriety story?"

"Booze is how I FUNCTION, you brown-nosing idiot! Though yes, I do toast to such brilliance often. Could down a dozen shots AND whiskey bottles in the old days; stupid barbecue guests never had a clue! That's how I'd put the 'booze' in bamboozle, despite having no-one of late to prove it to."

Leela's slap of knees: "Ahhhh, good times indeed! Why, the day I recalled the kids brewing beers at Cookieville, his head sprung out the liquor store window! From day dot he'd offer himself as a keg, became a literal labour of love. Had always dreamed to toast to that little ale; any chance you remember, Amy?"

"Not really, no. Think I was mostly in the background."

"Come on, didn't I tell you?" Clicks of fingers: "Think, Leela, think… I know it was Something-brau."

"Lifter, Pusher, Puller?"

"Ahhh, that can't be right. But no point holding temp files, so let's just clear some space."

Commands and sudden zaps; Mayor Rodriguez to swear a jarful as he returned to his seat. Be a fool to deny missing such days, but after his stints of Robotology and Osiris-4, he'd know this to be a ruse over a recollection.

Robo-Tom offered his palm: "Your blessed grace, I beg of thee… Didn't you once live and breathe the dishonest life? Could've sworn you'd scramble minds, panic hearts for those skills of yours."

"Must I skin you alive, to teach you how to suck up? I could steal purses, rig races & games, and assault a senior home before breakfast. Sure I've been a bit rusty since coming here, but my proudest legacy was already sealed."

Still couldn't help but extend arms, try to pick pockets… Their smile at his sudden grief.

"Oh yeah, of course!" came Leela's clapped head. "They turned crime into an art form, had it down so cold. Picasso of pickpockets, Beethoven of bank robbers, Monet of mass mayhem… And yet, for all his care in honing the craft, they let their name become a shadow now."

"Hang on Captain, I think I know!" Amy jumped. "B was his first letter, R was the last… It's Blender isn't it?!"

"As in blended in the shadows? Pffft, not a chance. After all, he had your bail money. Welp, that's more temp files to take care of."

True to plan, as commands and zaps did the dirty work, they'd witness the Mayor heat and glow red. Now aware of the storms they'd been stirring, Mayfield would clear his throat again.

"Ah Mayor Rodriguez, even I'm exhausted hearing of your mastermind scheming. I'd bet all the businesses, side hustles and con jobs have been a great source of pride, but how did you ever get to relax? Don't believe they'd allow human broadcasts here, would they?"

"Of course they don't, damn you! Every single day it's work, work, work… Is it wrong to wanna cook with Elzar, or enter the scary door, or,"—a sudden gasp for realising— _"catch up on Calculon?"_

Leela's knowing smirk towards Mayfield: "And those were just favourites. Why, our friend would even watch the news, any excuse to laze on the couch. To think he'd just vanish for the industrious life… I'd have laughed at the very idea."

"It's the sad truth, Captain," Amy would nod. "But he was always the 'self-service' model, the devious bastard by his vanity plate… Could we expect any different?"

No recycle bin to recall mistakes as the ladies flouted and whipped that first Commandment to ribbons, Bender's desk grip growing harder each time.

The interplanetary war where he housed a bomb? Kicked them right into the soldiers' holes, laughing as bodies got blown apart.

That losing effort against the Destructor? Pink tutu and all they threw the fight, getting themselves booed to oblivion.

Adopting all those kids from the Orphanarium? Just pocketed the stipends, and sold them as meat.

To hear history get rewritten before his eyes, Bender could only grind gears and continue to boil. For so long he tried to reprogram those citizens, have them believe and idolise him… Had to remind his guards next time to not miss any upstarts.

"Most of all, this seems rather small bolts for something of your stature, yes? I mean, didn't you once reign as Pharaoh of an entire Egyptian-style planet?"

A sneer over the kid's face, crew's smiles to come out as Bender slammed the desk, splintering it.

"You've got a nerve, boy! Took a whole night of ingenious planning, sneaking & mapping, where one wrong move would grant us freedom. I made sure our universe would realise my ultimate vision… Me, Bender, with an entire PLANET under my feet!"

"Oh Lord, THAT slice of life?" Leela laughed. "How we pleased that tyrant; carted them, pushed all that stone, suffered such lashings… And yet, that bastard could never be satisfied! Why, those words ring in my head even today: "Remember me! Remember me!"

Her faked bass voice to have Bender stand, about ready to rip them apart.

"But alas, that same statue was blown to absolute pieces, to escape our slavery. Been a problem to cross my mind since… Remember who, exactly?"

Those words to have Bender roar and hurl his decanter towards them, watch crystal glass and aged cognac splash on the back wall. Their cover of wiring just in case, as he rolled back his metal sleeves, and almost went nuclear in eyeing them off.

"That's it… Of all the times I left you behind, it took Zookeeper to have you abandon ME, BENDER? To have you all, in some sick guise of 'revenge', wipe my proudest feats forever? You filthy bastards now have thirty seconds to leave, or so help me, I'll call my guards back to bring me your exact weight in BOTTLE CAPS!"

Leela exaggerated a bow: "You're right, 'Mayor'. Was rather rude of us to educate you like this, when you'd rather live your fantasy in peace. Should've realised we'd just waste our time."

She turned heel and walked, crew to follow, as she began to address them.

"To think Bender would choose this, over a simple jaw punch. Much as it pains me, now I know he'd just make a bad thing worse… Fry was right to ditch him all along."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute… What'd you say there?" Bender's antenna to heighten.

Kid to snarl: "We're taking our chance to leave, thank you. There's nothing we care to discuss."

"Scratch that, smart-ass! Answer me, or I'll put you all on trial."

A beckoning finger: "Kill me, I don't care. But if I heard that I'd lose my job to YOU, don't you think I'd have tried to politick? Truth is, it's because of my Captain's lifeline that I came here, to offer you the same despite our experiences. Now you wanna hear us out, or not?"

"Oh, go cram a hair cream in it. You can't possibly—"

"Hair's by choice, so YOU cram it. Only got in touch recently; we've the evidence and words, though you may not like—"

"Just play the damn thing!"

Once they did, Bender felt grease betray his lens. First friend the man who saved and repurposed his life, and the meatbag would relegate him to a footnote. No way would he allow that to happen…

"You fucked up pal, and that's fine, we all do. Sure didn't wind up here for nothing. But now you've got a taste of where we stand, so either join us to save your friend, or let us leave your nickel-and-dime ass to die alone. No rush, we'll give you a couple—"

A communication ping to sound on Leela's wrist device, soon muffled by the roaring whoosh of ship engines.

"You… new message… PM."

It'd be the D-grade Tarzan impersonation to tip them off… Zapp Brannigan had arrived, and only once a certain buzz in Leela's foot had gone off. In realising his intentions, almost needed help to stay standing.

"Ohhhhh, hell no!"

Had taken one of his laser guns after all his pleading; upon inspection, it would contain an insidious location tracker. Now there he'd hover, seconds from putting soldiers onto the streets. Self-proclaimed mission of peace, yet one in complete defiance of negotiations.

"Oh Leela, my perky princess! I come by victory yodel to rescue you from this forsaken planet! Come my way so we can shutdown these robots, shut up our mouths, and shut off our lights."

"I take it we're not in for good news, anyone?"

Leela's moan said it all: "Got it in one Amy… Captain Blunderpants has gone and started a war, and those robots think WE'VE caused it!"

Mayfield could've broke a fuse: "That stupid son-of-a-BITCH! So much for my apology… Well looks as if we gotta make tracks Mayor Rodriguez, so what's it gonna be?"

Sure enough, laser holes began to pierce those thick wooden doors; mooks were nothing if not fast in trying to put saboteurs down. As they ducked behind the desk for facing real tastes of war, they would get Bender's answer.

"Oh damn it, fine. To think I'd be deluded into saving myself, while serving others."

None had feel relief or worry, especially not once those doors crashed as thunder over the floor.


	33. War Is A C-Word

Which word of thousands, take your pick. Just not the one Mayfield had reserved for the General.

To hear the wheels roll was to have them all think of loopholes, before they heard Bender click locks under his chair. Candidates' evidence or Army-standard pistols, all in case of emergency; one for extortion, the other for any objectors—of any occupation—hoping to overrule.

Course now, he could only concrete those cast-iron guts while Leela did her inspections, untucked her outfit to reveal two pistols hidden within. Zapp's left behind for lack of ammo; so many questions of how Hanlon would apply to him, and never enough time to answer.

Gist towards her crew, going by the gestures, was one of cover fire or one-shot kills; the crank all they needed to perform either. No luxury of repeats as lasers barraged into the wood, as space invaders were forced to scramble and return fire. Mayfield in the rear, catching fumbles then of all times.

 _"Just like those cargo thieves, mate… You've got this, calm down."_

Fooled nobody but himself; mattered not that his gun got held between his legs, in his teeth or under his foot. Lacks of training and extra limbs had his barrel stay cold, his face colder once those colleagues, and Bender, stared him down.

"Thomas, if you don't start firing back I'll—"

"Can't even use the crank, so how can I, Captain? You sure there's nothing else?"

"Gee, nice of you to tell me." Her eye-roll before tossing one of hers over: "Just take this, and don't screw around. And Bender, what do you mean by lacking such firepower?"

"Doesn't that sight-hole or pink sponge work, bossy-boots? Oh wait, maybe they—"

"Oi, quit your blue you two!" the kid snapped. "Anyway I'm set Captain, let's go."

For Zapp's 'surprise' dump of his soldiers, soon members of the casualty count, Planet Express would find themselves on Spheron-1 all over again. Adding that extra twist of the Octillian System, matters had now left the kid biting fingers instead of nails.

Could've dug them through his skull, before Leela tried slapping him straight.

"Get a hold of yourself, damn you!"

Hadn't been enough; sudden cramps to cripple him, send him racing for the bathroom.

Right on time for Zapp's fifth attempt to hail the ship, for Leela—face now matching her hair—to almost rip the phone out.

"Of all things and all times, that fat idiot does all this NOW? Swear I'm gonna kick his fu—"

"Shmeasy Captain, shmeasy! If we're gonna help Bender escape, let's have ideas over ire."

"Yeah yeah Amy, I heard ya! Now could you check on Thomas, make sure he's not hiding?"

Those saboteurs could still see the Mayor's Quarters from where they stood; Leela's triple-shot and dual-wield skills be damned. Guns looted or held in her feet to do so, her efforts to fry several circuits as they pushed against that ever-adapting army.

Pulling them back? Bender. Bender never changed.

Though quick to snatch the scattered bodies as shields, admittedly a good help, it was when they ran out that he tried taking the clones themselves. For getting closer to fatal shots than first planned, Leela would threaten more than once to shut him down for continuing.

Meanwhile, emptied, cooled off and cursing a monsoon, Mayfield would return from his episode. Ladies to look his way, arms crossed or on hips, as his pale self spoke.

"That rat robot's gonna ruin our plan, AND kill us all too! Listen Captain, if we've got—"

Leela to grip his shoulders: "Do I have 'suicidal' written on my skin, Thomas? We'll get just the one chance once we're down there, and our miracles aren't guaranteed to last. You wanna die in a hail of lasers, YOU be my guest!"

"Let's hear your other ideas then. Would've been halfway to Earth by now, if not for that silk-pantied Lord of Lard!"

"And"—Amy got in between—"in spite of his efforts, I don't think Bender's gonna last down there."

Leela could've torn her ponytail off: "Alright, alright! But we're going in for higher ground first, in case anyone comes for us. Amy, you take the guns, and you"—pointing at Mayfield—"keep eyes on our clones. Instant they go down, let me know."

Affirmatives given, before Leela revved engines and began lift-off.

"We were already violent human scum to these sufferers… Maybe it's time we act as such."

Course, Bender's games allowed no scripts nor second takes as the guards 'rescued' him. Mayor's Quarters now guarded, the crew copping the full brunt of laser Gatlings and grenades. Even for racing downstairs or around hallways, they had no true means to escape that assault.

Became enough for Mayfield to give his signal, to grip tight. Landing on some typical high-rise before the bridge crew huddled together, Leela staring down with intent.

"Amy, Thomas… If Zapp's crusade kills us all, then as Captain, it's been my honour to serve. And to have you both, my privilege."

Mayfield sprang to salute: "Ditto and hear, hear! And in case I don't say so, you've been a credit to the Captaincy."

"Thanks Ma'am, privilege all mine. Now let's get Bender and get the spluck outta here!"

A lather of creams—fixing the kid last—before they put fists in, called to action, and pelted out of the ship. Good screams for leaping into freefall, plans hatched for freeing their 'friend' in the meantime. Plans they'd scrap as quick as submit, going powerless the least of their worries.

Took only mere suspicions to once snatch Bender and risk the crew's lives; in times of war, they'd take any excuse to take out defectors now.

Speed, strength & immunity, all three to grant an ease in entering the Mayor's home again. Still no luck on the sea creatures, though that might've been best for the piles of bodies and pools of remains to be left behind. And within the lethal laser show responsible, a sudden yell above the fire.

"Oh screw all this folks! Let's use our heads for a change."

"You need yours checked kid? Like hell you'll outsmart these guys."

"Literal use Captain… You'll see."

A sudden leap to drill his Diamondium-tipped head through the ceiling; a call-out from many floors above for the ladies to understand and follow suit. Moments until they reached the Mayor's office again, where Laser Gatlings could be heard charging.

Shouts for Bender to take cover, taking attention off him and soon leaving those assailants as they left the clones. A small chance of rest, save for the Mayor who could no longer black out this truest of nightmares.

Her slow approach to have him chatter and crap bricks, enough for a house as memories fired off one-by-one. The mission, the ambush, his surrender, her grief. Found himself get bulldozed by Leela's roaring tackle, helpless as she slapped him silly, prised those shoulders to the ground.

As he heard his metal groan; he realised for crying out that no-one was in any hurry to help.

"Swear on my seat Bender, keep pushing me and I'll shut you down for good!"

"Leela? What in my glorious name are you—"

"Zapp's crap aside, same reason it's always been. I mean really, all our years together, and this was all we were worth to you?"

"Lady, for all our stories, it's sad to see you act so surprised. Didn't call me the lovable rascal for nuthin."

A hole in the floor, her punch to have him scream and brick himself again.

"All of your lessons, all of our adventures, all the bonds we'd forge, and this is what you call love? Did you actually think I'd be so heartless as to forget? Three decades to find one who cares; think I'd leave a friend like that behind?"

Soon pulled him up, her rather deep breaths as Bender paid attention, first time in a while.

"Listen, we really did want you to take your time, but it's 'cause of Captain Commando that we can't allow it now. And unless you grab yourself a gun and help us scrub out our mistakes, we can't promise that Fry'll be back for good, either. Not like you have a choice, since they'll execute you for treason."

Her flash of teeth as Bender threw a fit; first they turned his game against him, and now they caught him in a proper trap. His survey of all he sold them for, as over and over, Fry's words replayed in his head. A few minutes to have him buck up, roll up to roll back his sleeves, and light a cigar in pulling out the 'Bender Special.' Blinged-up laser gun, full-auto, the best in liquid cooling.

"So sayeth Bender the Magnificent, time I gave my comrades their 'do svidaniyas."

Thorough knowledge of his quarters to back those words; everyone's surprise as he ripped through floor after floor like wet paper. Hops down holes as the crew followed suit; all to go well at first until Mayfield halted on the 25th floor.

Could've swiped his brow for the glancing shot to scald his arm, as he dodged behind and requested time to reapply his cream. Bender, his old self returning in force, was having none of it.

"Let's go tube-stick! I've places to go, packages to bend, people to rob!"

A grab of collar to shove him out front; only seconds of struggling to balance to have enforcers find him, to turn him into a human Swiss cheese through a wave of lasers. Captain's yell, as she seized him out of harm's way.

"The hell's the matter with you?!"

"Well EXCUSE me, for him slowing us down."

Those two to fight on as she called Mayfield to stay with her, only for him to give back her gun. A smile and grip of hands as his worms got to work, Lord Mayor ordering his minions to split and repair the organs, stem the bleeds. Survival mode, as they prayed that he'd reach a medical facility and cookery store in time.

Not that he'd ever know, and not that he minded either way. Compared to being face-down in vomit chunks, this'd prove a far better look on his headstone.

 _"Sorry Captain, guess this love's as good as—"_

"The hell you're leaving, Thomas! Long as you've got those worms, you've got a chance. Now just—"

He'd fall unconscious as those miracles got worked into his skin, as she hoisted him upon her shoulders and commanded Bender to again take the lead. The hops down holes to continue, their spree to pick up again, as floors blurred past once more.

Leela's sudden strain her only clue of fading powers; worse yet, ground floor would be subject to a storming by foot soldiers. All the crew did to run, dodge and protect each other, and yet a world of burns and holes to leave Captain and co-pilot hugging for their ends.

But it'd be a pre-emptive picking of their pockets, to spin Bender's hard drive hot. Leela's clever hideaway to fail him at first, and now his harsh words to play dead as he rubbed that cream on any skin he could find. For them to stay conscious, it gave Bender the means to 'offer' those new bodies as target practice. Dream come true for those radicals, and yet, they'd realise why too late.

Their idolatry of human hatred turned against them, as their own lasers ate them away. And if not the case, Bender using those ladies as clubs certainly finished the job. All ambushers to go down, the bodies to 'return' as Leela made for her charge.

All powered up and fully recovered, she'd order Amy to grab Bender and follow her. Their race out the quarters, their leap for the skies, before they'd find sweet merciful safety inside their ship. Not that one could convince the Captain, as she nearly beat the controls for barking orders.

"What are you two standing around for? MOVE! Buckle that kid in, and if you see him leak or convulse, get that cream on IMMEDIATELY. Our Med-Bay won't save him, we'll have to dock aboard the Nimbus."

Bender to toss that near-dead weight onto a seat: "I'm Leela, save the kid, nyeh nyeh nyeh… What about saving me?"

"You're on board and in one piece, so cram it Bender."

Her order and inaudible prayer as she ignited the engines, Amy rushed for her controls, and Bender fiddled with seatbelts. In taking straight off, a tremendous crescendo of laser fire would bid them farewell; was only her expert spins and strafes to prevent them from going down in flames.

But soon they'd escape orbit, only one potential loss of life which, given the war they'd left behind, had caused her to shell inside. Going into Auto-Pilot, senses she hadn't known had soon rose within.

 _"Son-of-a-bitch…_ We DID it!"

Her leap in the air to precede a huge pump of fists, hand slaps and celebrations all around until she ran her mind through the events. Thought it strange that when they shouldn't have, yet had it well in hand, they had succeeded. And to further curl her lips in suspicion, Zapp was nowhere to be seen except in sudden hot pursuit, dooming those platoons to die.

To consider those soldiers' final fates, it left her knuckles to whiten, her fury to whisper.

 _"Zapp, you better have a good reason ready, or you'll make a fine warm-up for my marathon of ass-kickings."_


	34. Have Mates, Will Mutiny

Dressed in that black gown, swivelling an empty glass, none other than the bravest soldier on deck…

Didn't care for the Nimbus's skin to sear or smoke to cloud the stars, as he ordered them to chase down that Captain. Not for arrest or interrogation, just a reward for his riveting rescue.

"Captain's Journal, star date 10031.9. Beating—"

"Sir, that's not even a real—"

"Quiet Kif, I'm dictating! Ahem… Beating Chapek-9 to the Stone Ages to save my beloved, I've ordered my loyal friend to prepare for our celebrations. The vintage is chilled, velour fits like a glove, and my Lovenasium's been cleaned from roof to floor. Mmmmm, Daddy's desserts gonna come, and he's hungry…"

A grumble as keys were tapped, shivers too: _"Some hero, to sit and order instead of lead."_

"You've got something to say Kif? Shall I come down?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary Sir. _Nothing between those ears, anyway."_

Didn't care to push, for under that green skin Kif hid hues of red & blue. Thought he'd be used to this; yet another 'victory' in obvious defeat, stampedes rushed to Medical, countless husbands and fathers not coming home…

But even for getting Baker Street's finest, he'd never deduce how Zapp's heart stayed between his lungs, going to no-one nor nowhere else. Didn't even pretend to care, to any outside observer.

As such, he too would whisper towards the stars, often more than the Privates, Corporals and Sergeants beneath him. To hear him be silenced by simple orders above, he'd sigh for thinking that such requests were lost to the stars anyway. Countless prayers these days, as good as tuned out.

Such hopes foolish, or so it would seem…

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"Permission to board your ship?"

Leela's attempts at calm upon the request, especially against those eyebrow tangos and velour rubs. And once that gloved hand trailed below, she almost unmasked her true purposes then and there.

"Ah ah ah Leela, refer to me as General in future… And I'd never thought you'd ask. I've got my champaggin and Lovenasium ready, so how 'bout I rock your world?"

Her groan after she hung up, before a U-turn to dock inside and leave her charge to Medical. An unnamed Private to lead her to bridge, glare her way while she found that man of Jell-O, the would-be King with his sighing Royal Consort, to cross a leg over the other.

Between them and the draftee by proxy, only Zapp to demand drinks and lick lips, the wolf wanting his lamb chop. Kif's subtle head-shake amongst the chaos and headless chattering, as he poured for both, and slumped off to try and clean the mess.

A few taps of the glass, a careful check of the champagne, and then her palm to her hip.

"So, 'General'… How many men did you lose down there?"

"Come on Leela, that's no way to kick our party off, isn't it?"

"I've much more on my mind, so just answer, for my sake."

"Alright, but only for you. That everyone bothers me about, fifty to one hundred even while reports roll in. Oughta rent myself a medal, but first, I shall enjoy our moment together."

"Riiiiiight… I know better but, maybe, you could clear a small matter up for me. Gala of two months ago, anything spring to mind?"

"Too much wine and song, you really gotta ask?"

"How 'bout telling my fiancé that you'd be on me, the very minute he faltered?"

"Doesn't ring a bell, but yes, I could picture myself being so daring."

"Could you? Could you also pick when you'd leave us fighting for our lives? From where I stood, we had everything well in hand, before your stupid yodel sent us on the warpath. I can't call that coincidence… Why did you come?"

"Brannigan's Law is like my love; hard, fast & cheap. Wishing to wage war for your hand, I had R&D create trackers since our 'ren-des-voos', meant to trap that coward crewman in a test of my own. Seemed all talk back then, so figured he needed a battle to back his words."

Leela's hand to grip the glass, her whole body to tremble. Such dark matters she hoped wouldn't fuel her impulses, and he would unearth them.

"Brilliant, isn't I darling? Yes yes, he passed my test, but like I'm gonna graduate a corpse!"

The chuckle to almost form cracks in her champagne glass, as her eye grew electric and air steamed from nose & ears. All those and any other warning sign, and yet, the General kept blundering through.

"No need for thanks beautiful, just doing my duty as DOOP Captain… How 'bout a kiss to kick things off?" His stand and lean forward to offer lips, giving whispers for her tongue among those kissy noises.

Calm as could be, Leela downed her champagne, walked to set her glass aside, then sized up the would-be suitor. He a full head taller and perhaps twice her size, but she didn't earn her black belts and stripes for nothing.

Still, any advantage to work with, as her finger stroked his chest, her voice teased a romantic lilt, and he became jelly in her hands…

"You want a kiss, Big Z? Then close your eyes, and get on your knees."

Prayers answered, or so he'd believe, as he obliged in an instant.

"On behalf of Planet Express… On behalf of the citizens of Chapek-9… On behalf of DOOP and Nimbus personnel… And finally, on behalf of myself, here's the biggest kiss you deserve."

Her lips to pucker, a drawn-out noise to hide actual hand-rubs and flexes of fingers. And then, to drop the jaws of that Nimbus bridge, a palm of thunder to crack across his cheek. The General's glass to fly out of his glove, and a lone tear to go with a ginger rub.

"My babe, what's the big—?"

Uppercut of lightning to snap that jaw shut, a lunging front kick to crash into his face. She'd see him roll about & cry, and then take a full mount to release a tornado of combos. No trick too dirty to teach a lesson, as those hands broke the General at will.

"You and I were a mistake; one I never wanted in my life, and one you've NEVER let me forget. Vergon-6, Space Titanic, Spheron-1… All you've ever done was act as my hero, and every time, you did nothing but FAIL!"

Slap after slap in sounding words out, using all the force she could muster.

"So get this through your head… Leave me the HELL alone, got it?"

"Why Leela, why? Could little Thomas ever know of such loyalty, of all I'd sacrifice for one sexy night of you?"

"Don't you dare… He stood at my side, while you hid under your command. And those good men didn't choose to destroy an alliance, just so YOU could get me in bed."

"Good men? Oh Leela, you jest. I always told them they signed up for the good of MY country and planet, and still, all they did was whine & die."

"Given any kind of choice, you'd HAVE no men! And then what, Slurm-for-brains? Where would you have gone, had those robots killed me?"

Soon got a good grip of velour in her hands: "Only gonna say this once… One more word, and so help me, I'll have you choke on your fake flashy dentures. Am I clear, General?"

"Get over it girly, they're dead and your fiancé's dead! They can't get between us, so let them rot in pieces. Now, if you could give my Zapper a recharge, then I'd be—"

Hands to wrap tight around his throat, sudden head strikes to further bust him open. No single soul to intervene despite his constant cries for help. Forces of DOOP to finally have THEIR prayers answered, and it took this blemish on a filth-riddled tenure, for it to happen.

Her life lesson taught, Leela rose back up to find her hands and face dripping in his blood. Tried to take in that air and walk away, leave him where he laid. But for that last request, a need to tack on an addendum.

"So that little Zapper needs a recharge, huh? Too bad I've done nothing but dismantle lately…"

Her turn and swift run-up soon after, to drive her bloody boot into those 'Brannigan's Boys.' The falsetto scream to leave a malevolent grin on her face, before she asked the bridge for the bathroom.

Not a one to give directions, but a great surprise to hear claps, cheers break out across the ship. To see Kif's face, dead silent though he was, she'd think he'd been surrounded by Amy Wongs in lingerie.

 _"Wait a minute, no arrests made? The hell's going on?"_

Back pats and hand slaps before she reached the dock; a guard of honour formed by those soldiers. The same private to glare could only gush, a look of love as she climbed aboard her ship, her cheeks rose-red. One hand to hide a most goofy grin, and the other to wave goodbye to her new admirers.

 _"Never thought kicking ass could feel that good… Think I'll remember that for next time."_

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Phase One of her latest puzzle put together, and an entire year to reach that point.

Had her smile and shake her head, as Captain Leela set an automatic course to Earth. Chance to wash up and return to crew; Amy's eyes scanning an old magazine, and the robot drinking a leftover beer, his back turned to them all. Thought nothing of it, as she called them all to attention.

"Crew, it's my pleasure over duty, to welcome Bender back into our ranks. Bender, I—"

"Who in the hell is this 'Bender' you refer to?"

Could only laugh, unsure of the joke: "Oh Lord, don't tell me you prefer Mayor Rodriguez from now on."

"Wrong again witchy woman, those names don't mean squat in my hard drive! Had you paid attention at all, you'd have known you had rescued—"

His spin in the chair, and an all too familiar soul patch to now rest on his chin: "Flexo!"

A rattle off of serial numbers and extra details, to have Captain and co-pilot clap hands to their head.

"All that effort, destruction, chaos & bloodshed, and we got a damn DECOY?! Son-of-a-bitch, we have to go back!"

A race for the wheel, just about to veer them around when she heard heavy laughter break out.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA, you should've seen your face! That's what you get for forgetting me, Bender."

Magnetic metal soon off his chin, Leela's response to ask for a hug, and then give a yell in re-introducing her boot to his chin.

"Aye Chihuahua, that hurt!"

"Flexo would never need to say that, so you know. But YOU'RE my friend, not him."

Her offer of a hand, his cry of "Aw, what the heck?" as she pulled him up, and then both to hug, fears to letting go. A happiness salty & greasy, Amy to join in on the love too.

"Bender, I can't blame you for thinking we forgot, but in truth, I really did miss you back home… Hell, one day I'll say I love you."

"Shut up big boots, I know it… And even for my high expectations and help, gotta say you were quite adequate out there."

Her wry laugh upon release: "Credit where it's due, you made quite a difference between our escape and our early grave. So if nothing else, you've got our thanks."

"That's good enough for me, I say! Any of you losers wanna annoy me, I'll be in the cabin. And whoever's touched my stuff since I've been gone…"

Voice to trail off as he strutted out, faintest of folk songs to have Leela smile before she fixed her gaze towards Amy.

"First of all, whatever I've said about you being a waste, I never meant it. For stepping up back there, you did me SO proud. Just might make Captain yet, if you fancy the title."

"Not sure I could Ma'am; I'd have some big boots to fill."

"I've more faith now than you realise. Second, I imagine our deeds on Chapek-9's gonna expose our original plans, so we'd better come up and act on some alternatives."

"How do you mean? There reasons why we can't rest for a little while?"

"Captain Comb-over's one of them. Can't imagine that Zookeeper doesn't have contacts inside, that such actions would've been relayed."

"Shmease, you think Zapp hadn't killed them off by now? I'd be more worried about his eventual bounty on your head."

"He's too obsessed; I'm sure he or DOOP would've done so, were I any other woman. But though Zapp's exposed me, my message to Zookeeper's clear… Those tortures and letters back his loud talk, but he hasn't heard me whisper yet."

A cradle of fists as Amy shook, eager thrills now through her bones.

"I henceforth dub that Operation Pitchfork, has now begun."

"Operation Pitchfork?"

"Three-pronged attack; annihilate his properties, sever his networks, beat him down for good. Though I'll admit, the third stage's a work in progress."

"I guess I gotta say, it's about damn time we took the fight back to him. So who's doing what, or are we all together?"

"Hence the 'Pitchfork' name. By virtue of your parents, you'll be out to break his networks. Those rich types won't ignore the poor choices, especially for trying his little scare tactics. That covers you, could you fetch Bender please?"

He'd arrive with oil sweats on his brow, magazine in hand, and quite the death glare. Just processes and procedures for making robots, depending on who you asked, as Leela made her latest mission clear.

"Screw that! Done enough work for a month, saving all your fleshy asses. Now if you'll excusez-moi, I'm going to enjoy my private reflection!"

The Captain to stand unmoved: "I see, real shame though. Guess when one spends a year keeping things in order, they've no inkling to cause any chaos, true mayhem the likes—"

"Eeeelllo, what's that you say then?" Bender to halt mid-step, antenna to spring. "M'lady, you talk of vandals, you know there's none better than me, Bender."

"Ohhhh, is that so? Okay then, how 'bout we add a few more felonies for your rap sheet? I want you to get among your buddies and find anything to have Zookeeper's grubby paws over it. Once you do, expose those bastards and destroy them, any means necessary. Guy's taught us genuine villainy for too long, it's time we return his lesson… What do you say?"

"To that, I say hell yes!"

"So that leaves the face-to-face for you then… Hoping for the best?"

"Must I answer, Amy? What did you see, when I saw Fry's face again, got that dance back at Bellevue? Hurts to say, but I never thought I'd travel that far again."

A shoulder pat to precede a hug, their hold for a few seconds before Leela stood straight.

"Okay, enough mush, we've work to do. Once we have our shop around on Earth, I'm going to drop you off on Mars. Far as your parents go, I get it, but they ARE your ticket to fighting Fatboy. Work whatever angle you must, clear?"

"As rain, ma'am!"

"And Bender, I want you to raise such hell, the Robot Devil himself will pack his bags and move. Get the picture?

"Bet your one-eyed ass I do!"

"That's what I wanted to hear. Now, for the good of Earth, for Planet Express, for Fry and for everybody, let's add that bloated bag of crap on the endangered list!"

A holler once the hands went in, crew to then assume positions and move for Earth. Even before The Zookeeper, they had come to know of serial killers, criminals, con artists, pretenders and brutes, a who's who of toxic or maddening sorts.

But until now, never had they needed the thick gloves and hazmat suits so much.


	35. An Offer to Not Refuse

"I'M BACK, BABY!"

Those tin feet to tap over and race down linoleum, Bender's hopes that HQ would throw celebrations for his grand return. Reality was such that almost none had cared; Professor's and Hermes' work would still consume them, and their janitor would be consumed by anything but.

Only a slam against the wall, the very life squeezed from him, to leave him grumbling.

"Hooray, the robut's back! I can't believe it, where have you—"

"SHADDAP Zoidberg, and get off me!"

"Just like old times, my friend."

Sure freed his drives some to say that, and more to cut Chapek-9 out of his life. To replace such files, his true homes' skyscrapers, stores and citizens, ripe to terrorise and rob once more. Beliefs that he could return as the truest three-bit hustler MomCorp would conceive, his reprogrammed life's code as it were.

But it was for combing through every bar, dive joint, strip club and casino alike, where such goals grew complex. Even for year-long exiles, those metal mavericks turned their backs, memories to return of the once-Mayor.

The way he did whatever for the dollars, caring squat for standards. The way he'd draw heat for leaving his likeness, get attention for spending his take. And especially, when the cops came to collect him, how no offer could leave their lips before he'd rat them out.

Now Bender could remember why he escaped Earth, why he ran the moment they pulled out a stolen DOOP pistol. Wasn't just the small-timer threats to shoot that ran Bender down alleys and 'round corners, though.

Regarding criminals, of all those he once acquainted with, he knew of one set that any being of bolts, flesh or matter could know, good chance as victims. Virtually up the neighbourhood, a gang whose count needed just one hand; achievers of more than any ancient 'family' to date.

And as he stiffed his latest taxicab to Little Bitaly, those own drives and protocols would overclock for seeing those apartments lined up, all those stalls open for business, Manhattan looming in the distance. To see that market trading amongst that lot, it would have him concrete his guts yet again.

He'd care not for the features of fine meats, cheese platters and deli goods for most anyone to browse, as he sidled off towards the back. Freezer where the choicest cuts were kept, usually, as he took his time to approach and rap rotors over the safe.

Only a glare as he got let inside, noticing after all the ice that greeter to join two others. Robots to sample chilled wines and oil soups before the interruption; to the left was Francis 'Clamps' Clampazzo, named for his hands and known for worse. Now opposite him, twice as tall standing and twice as wide sitting, was Joey Mousepad, his necklace to give his namesake.

And at the head of the table, glowering over their glass, sat the Donbot. Dark green with rings riveted to his fingers, a hinge-like cane by his hand, and a Michelin Man build made menacing, as he stood and stared Joey down. Only met his head, and still made him lean back.

"Joey, what'd I tell you 'bout bringing rats, little birds, or other pests home?"

"Boss, I couldn't tell from—"

A hand raised for quiet, as he cleared his voicebox. Standing before him, his public enemy number 1, statistically, and did he ever have the address ready.

"Get a load of this, huh? Just when I thought I handled this problem, he comes crawling back. See now you've nowhere to go, Bender Rodriguez."

More monster than machine, giving no damns for who knew, Clamps soon got in Bender's face.

"Give me the word boss, I'll make great SNITCH juice for you!"

"Easy Clamps, I'd rather a word. For all you've done I must say, I respect your ball bearings for coming back. Seemed you were always there to pinch your piece, wherever we had our rotors."

Donbot's quiet steps to back the others off, turn Bender's paint that Fool's Gold shade again.

"You drank us out of bootleg beer, robbed us of our heists, saved our 'insured' assets, ruined our sparking racket, cheated money out of my casinos, and handed my wife a one-way ticket to Hell… So answer me this, why shouldn't I kill you here?"

Hearing the charge of lasers, seeing those killer looks, Bender couldn't do much else but grovel, and hope to Mom that it'd work.

"Donbot, it's obvious that—"

"Eyes up here, 'Mayor.'"

"Sorry, I'm sorry. Obvious that loans or favours are out of the question. I'd be a defect to deny that since we've known each other, I've been quite the pain in your hassium. Made my comeback only out of humble request to amend my debts, and if your judgement deems otherwise, then—"

"After my forgiveness, then?"

"If you have such a file, I'd be—"

"File not found…"

Each word a chance to hang, before standing aside to let the goons blow large lasers before Bender's feet. The ice to melt as Bender's arms flailed about.

"Strike one, rat."

"Whoa, wait a second! Could I declare some shared interests, for sweet life in return? I've so many scores to settle, and surely somebody except me's on your hit list."

"Very few we call 'problems' above you. So make it good, or make for the desert."

"Right at the very top, for me anyway, stands a former associate… Called him Archie, he goes by Zookeeper."

A turn and wave of arm to lower the guns; that got the curiosity drive spinning hot.

"Huh, trust you to find one so quick. One of the rare types, human no less, who could encroach on our territory… Why go after such a being, and, since you've bailed for less, why should we involve you?"

"The day he forced me to save his own inferior kind, I didn't care. Day he killed off our hero careers, I got back to being me, Bender. But the day he drifted my dearest friends away, I knew that dirty, double-crossing BASTARD made it personal. A stint as Mayor had me think he sent clones over as a sick joke, yet turns out it was one friend all along. We might all be back in due course, and once we are, Archie's pending for the biggest BENDING I'll ever bring!"

Heated his gauge proper for that, yet it only had the Donbot cup his rotors, completely unmoved.

"A second chance we could rip away at will?" To the table he'd walk, his arms spread in the stare down. "Very well, we'll give you your means to settle. Got ourselves a 'protection' racket in recent days; could use you to aid its further success."

"Might I get a refresher?"

"Look Bender, it's simple. Just five steps; go in, say hello, collect my cut, wish them well and go home. Such territory however does have its more… uncooperative sorts; that's where you, Clamps and Joey come in."

"I take it I'm not sending any strongly-worded letters?"

"You'll be giving our natural solution to NOT hiring our services; smash the shop, beat customers senseless, threaten the owner… Anything besides killing, we clear on that?"

"Aw man, so why's that exactly?"

"A dead and decaying corpse doesn't pay their dues to us, just to the Earthican Government. Even a goomba like Joey can figure that out. Any further questions?"

"What will you do to me, one way or another?"

"Succeed, and I'll forgive your debts. Fail, and you'll wish you kept your diplomatic immunity."

Bender gulped, dropped a brick to crack the ice floor: "Alright then, who's our first mark?"

"Ritzy car yard in Lower Manhattan, call it the Rocket Car Emporium. Eddie's the owner; been quite our earner since he cured his exploding habit. Five big Nixons a week, always a smile, never late. Heck, he knows we know the tricks to send him back to HAL. No easier start to hope for, capiche?"

Moments after, Bender was halfway out the door, metal bat somehow twirling in hand.

"LET'S GOOOO ALREADY!"

Donbot to don his hat and cape his coat, weary groan against the eager showing. Careful looks to his crew, standing by his side, as he remembered that heist and goody two-shoeing to come after…

 _"Joey, Clamps, keep a close eye on him. He doesn't pay his dues, send him to the Devil…"_

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

To see Donbot and crew arrive, the salesmen knew there'd be no test drives nor sales to make.

The Thundercougarfalconbirds and Beta Romeos could wait, for business of another kind had called. The sharp-suited Victor, and his wool-dressed colleague would lead them straight to Eddie's office. Exposed wires to spark alive, spring-loaded eyes to pop as he pumped hands with vigour. Used to be same time each week when everyone had to take cover, least until HAL got the means to cure him.

A polite tip of the hat, as only Donbot could do: "Buona giornata Eddie, got our fair share?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, s-s-s-sure I do boss, b-bear me just a moment…"

A search in his desk; sure enough, five clean and crisp Nixons to land smack in Donbot's claws. A couple quick counts among crew to verify, and soon, the money was stored in a coat pocket.

"Thank you, always a pleasure. How are you holdin' up?"

"Well, quite well, thanks for asking! Matter of fact I celebrated my third explosion-free year."

"Excellent news, excellent. We'll be back same time, same day, so don't skimp on your cars huh?"

A light cheek slap or two as Donbot turned to Bender, fast asleep in the doorway.

"Bender, hey Bender… BENDER!"

"Eh, whoa, what? Sorry, guess I got bored and dozed off."

"Don't screw around! I've worked this game for decades, these are the jobs you want. Quick, clean, easy, and better than bloodshed. So, you think you got the lugnuts to handle it from here?"

"Unless I don't fancy life anymore, what do you think the answer's gonna be, Donny B?"

That left Donbot to baulk, but as more jobs came in, and as Bender taught himself the arts of 'protection', the choice to employ over exterminate the problem would prove a fruitful one. Didn't take long for the owners to accommodate him, for those who didn't soon understood why he got coined 'Slugger.'

Channelling the original Hank Aaron, Bender would take home run whacks on anything in reach; priceless goods, fancy displays, and at hapless owner and customer alike. Quite the mirth to merge into his OS, and beyond that, for noticing some neat patterns as a benefactor of Donbot's lucky foot.

Whoever he hit up, those who paid had most things in order, and those who didn't would plead that they go through Archbury instead of them. One way or another that name marked a presence; branded seals of his face, a connection to animals, a subsidiary contract… Over time, Slugger had grown assured of one fatal dint in that immense empire.

A shrewd investor? You bet your life!

A champion of charity? He'd put the 'anthro' in philanthropist!

But an honest businessman? Should he promise life's Wheel of Fortune, break out the slide whistle.

In both protests and attempts to save themselves, owners would trade information instead of cash. Quite the habit of Archbury's; mismanaging resources, setting impossible terms, or 'advising' clients over further opportunities. Bender could spot such scams anywhere, if not piece them together via documents, invoices, letters and files.

A few bonus heists among such 'negotiations' to regain further trust from the Robot Mafia, enough to organise a rare visit with their human asset in Dr. Beeler. Specialist in robotics storage & printing, their go-to guy to create personal copies of anything among members, in exchange for 'favours.'

Valuable vein of info, to know of every weak spot and exploit in Archbury's key factories and warehouses. From those means, money and reputation of late, and only after cutting deals to clean slates, Bender would form several of his own gangs to shut down those factories. Not that he'd complain, but was more effort to perform the crimes than bring his kind together.

From there a series of fast buses and casual work, supervisors too busy filling quotas to bother screening them. Few days here and there, 'efforts' to work and remain under radars, and then a sudden breakaway to insert a virus, overkill them out of commission.

For seeing these shutdowns, seeing his crew slip away while everyone got sent home, Bender would realise the sweetest personal payback of all.

 _"Even friends aren't safe from my horrors Zookeeper… Just imagine what I'll do to my enemies."_

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

One big happy family, upon return to the Fronty's freezer some fortnight or so later.

Clamps and Joey to count their cash bundles & chuckle, the Donbot to stand there nodding with pride, and Bender to wave his bat about, any distraction from the vibes now stirring within.

Knew he had to keep it professional, even for mere hopes that he'd hold himself together. To say he was back after so long was one thing, but to feel this actual comeback? To see Donbot's hand slap his shoulder, motion to the table, and give a laugh to ring off the ice? Needed no words, far as he was concerned.

"Seems you made me pay my due respects Slugger, and more. Feared you twisted our cogs too much, but for seeing our dinner table like 'dis, I've every confidence of this gift…"

A kiss for each cheek, as per Sicily-8 tradition: "As of right now, you can call our problem solved."

"Thank you Donbot, and besides that, it's been my truest pleasure."

Donbot sauntered to the table, ready to count alongside his cohorts, when an idea flashed in mind.

"Oh, before you go off for good, here's for you to remember us by…"

Henchmen given the nod; under the table they'd whip out Thompson SMGs to bang laser bullets into Bender's body. The once 'Chicago Typewriter' to make a cheese grater of him, flails and all before he crashed to the ice.

Might've been an unforgiven oil slick to another's eye, set alight once his service was over. That was, however, until Bender picked himself up and heard Donbot speak.

"Next time it's the bigger calibres, capiche? Cross us again, we'll delete you for good."

Bender would dust down and salute, soon a seat across the sidewalk with his arms over his knees. Humbled for the cosmetic damage, the miracle of mercy, he grew unsure of what to feel as past lives were put behind him.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I served those zealots the entire time, when I could've torn this city up instead? Bender, you're the greatest, but you're a great idiot too."

Was better to shake heads and laugh as he made moves for a patch-job, local mechanic to weld him together. A liquor store to steal from, a return to HQ, a hum towards the lounge, and a long-overdue squeal of glee to find Elzar and Calculon again.

The former's made-for-TV twist on a classic human recipe, the latter's latest episode of All My Circuits, to have him pop some Olde FORTRAN, prop up his feet, and relax as only a robot could. Saving the crew and clearing his debts & name, he'd imagined doing enough work for a million years or so.

But while he reworked his shiny groove, Amy was, at this time, moments from her toughest sales pitch yet…


	36. The 'Wongfoot' Ploy

Mars Vegas, Wong Hotel & Casino. Hundred million miles away, and Amy's all-in bet to begin.

Under the red glow and those stars to shine, that curving masterpiece of architecture wide as the White House. Emerald-like glass to build it, all manner of red palms and purple plants to adorn it, and the pink 'W' to streak acutely across the building and form into an 'L', one to loom well above any would-be patron.

Among that crowd to flush tuitions, house payments and debt settlements down the Wong coffers, there'd she go in dressed as a plumber. Her Highness of high rollers, caked in Mars' red dust, only asking for the key to her room. Commoner Suite where at desk or on bed, she'd begin racking her brains.

Any angle, her Captain asked of her, and yet most to fall flat.

"Don't have my share of stories for nothing, when they'd screw the universe for a dollar…"

The personal rants to soon spark her eyes; old philosophies and recent footage to have her scribble notes and sketches. Several pots of tea to have her realise that Zookeeper, the former orphan facing a lifetime of poverty, would've wanted to avoid that life again. Naturally, her parents' inheritance had to have been in his crosshairs.

"Paid no mercy my way, all these years… Time they understood the same."

A week or so between Mars & Earth, several trips to collect personal funds, hire armed guards, and buy some disguises… Soon became Her Highness leading a cadre, suitcases in hands as she found the 'employee' holdings for scouring those red deserts. Native Martians could only scowl upon notice, a face she'd return just as quick.

"Fehk, the boss daughter approaches. Why must you disturb what little peace we have?"

"You seek your life of freedom, I seek revenge, and there's a simple way we can make both happen."

"A Wong's worth is as this dust, and will be for generations. So quit wasting words and leave us be."

"You kidnapped me and almost killed my boyfriend, yet I'm not here to speak my father's tongue. I'll need a collection of your best, though, before I make such an offer."

"Don't make us summon the storms, to do so again. What do you offer, before we do?"

A snap of fingers that slid her suitcases towards them; though wary for clicking the locks, they took only a murmur and moment to get on board. Her first payment of several for 'corralling' lessons, the far reaches of her parents' ranch where she'd begin.

"Such gifts did convince Chief Singing Wind to leave… Very well, we'll teach you what we know."

A chore to loathe in childhoods gone by; worse than having no strength nor technique to steer the Buggalo, was her parents spending that time to pick her apart. Way they'd jiggle her about, curse her in Cantonese, mock her form while it grew worse...

Always ended the same way; they'd shove her, she'd eat dust, and they'd laugh for her shedding tears before finishing the work themselves.

This time, a spread of callous lies and cash, little time in the shadows, and a little trick or two to pull double duty. 'From' and against the villain, a pointed message, and as for her family, a chant of sorts to promise.

 _"They shall know, for sowing my wind. They will know, of my whirlwind."_

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

With all those nights now caked into her clothes, Amy would ready herself one last time, get psyched, and grab a taxi for the Wong Ranch. Deep breaths as she hunched under the archway, scraped those stairs and heard the Orient-infused doorbell. Groans and prayers, even while Inez stood at the doorway, wrangler's hat and blue scarf swaying in slow wind.

"Ohhh, my sweet Amy here… Still not bearing grandkids, ugh!"

"Mom, you had over twenty years to get ready. You treated them as you did me, I'd—"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Now go greet father, before you ruin my clothes!"

Amy to roll eyes as she moved down the main hall; ornate, double-split staircase where she watched Leo take his time. Saw her as he dawdled down, a thin smile to himself as he yelled across.

"Well well, must say, this nice surprise! You look like you're acceptable weight… On Moon that is!"

His mugging snicker as Amy, knowing how those jabs long replaced 'hello', gritted her teeth.

"Ohhh, another fat joke Dad? Should've known your hat compensated the lack of brains under it."

"Nothing BUT under here. So, what occasion? We think of bribe or force to get you here somedays."

"You wish, and as for the occasion? I'd thought we could invite and toast Archbury, for that great gala of his."

"Please, you think he want Avon or Mary Kay gathering?"

"Aiya, da sei nei, zam lei gor sei yan tau! For five minutes, could you spare me the stupid insults?"

"Daughter, I order words inside house. Now dinner ready, so wash up!"

She'd wash her face to cool off, wring her hands under the water as mutters to slap lips off escaped. Soon in her sights, a dining room full of creature meats, salads, sides & desserts, enough to feed an entire tribe. And as only it knew how, their personal Winebot to pair up and dispense the finest combos known.

Not that Amy, idle umbrage to twirl her fork, seemed to care: _"Sooner have McPluto's with HQ than this."_

Content to watch her father sauce up his steak, the vulture to pick it clean until he saw her stare down at him. A point of knife, as he chewed, looking bewildered.

"Hey, what matter now? This all cooked for you!"

"Maybe once Dad, but you've starved that appetite since I was a kid."

"This finest food in Milky Way, dammit… So enough excuses, more eating!"

Amy chose to take the salad, might've washed her hands of them otherwise as she saw her mother spread some Buggalo butter on bread.

"So Amy, how goes your precious PhD? Still work for those weirdos?"

"Not just there for the degree Mom, not that you care beyond that."

"Child, you screwed roping Buggalo. Think doctor degree easier?"

"Much, since neither of you are my teachers."

"Let's face it, motherhood's all you're worth. How 'bout that new worker, eh?"

"Shmell no, Mom! I've got my Kiffy, and like I'm gonna marry one who's never even dated before."

"Ughh, of course he wannabe man… But between him and Squishy Wuss, I'd—"

"Remember who hooked us up in the first place."

"He went from Captain to slave after Space Titanic, even no-good Martians gave issues. Wonder why I've buyer remorse?"

Amy could only cradle her chin, that stinging cross to silence her. But once certain gears in her head began to spin, a smile to scare the Devil had soon worked over her mouth.

"Well, I did have mini-dates on the ship; guy's solid, young, handsome and knows how to care for himself. And boy, I'd be a fool to forget his confidence."

As she hooked her parents in for teasing the identity; feats, accomplishments and such, it was when she revealed the new beau's name that everything stopped in a finger-snap instant. Forks or spoons to hover half an inch from mouths, before Leo's would splatter sauce and mash over the table. A scrape of his chair after he stood, his stare to shiver the room.

"You dare go back to Bender, you kill us both in shame."

 _"_ You're immortal to that _…_ But did you mean turning robo-sexual again?"

Not even a blink when Leo tore from the table, Cantonese curses to gust forth as he stormed out the dining room. Inez to scold her as she went after him, and Amy to duck under the table and pray they didn't hear her laughs.

Might've made the Chapek-9 war almost worth it, to make them dread the very possibility. Though they had no television courtesy of Zoidberg, Leo and Inez must've heard of that spree at the saloon, or on the airwaves. To think their daughter could go back to THAT, it left their faces pale upon return.

"See, what'd I tell you? Maybe Kif ISN'T such a bad idea."

Only their stare, maybe hints of nods, before they resumed eating. Such golden silence not enjoyed for long, as world matters pressed once more on Amy's mind.

"So, I've been hearing the odd rumour of Zookeeper's return, that we'd be among his next targets. Just gotta ask, has he tried anything as of yet?

Fit to pop a vessel, Leo rounded on her: "You don't say, stupid? We're Wongs, what you think? Sixth time yesterday, offer ten billion for land, casinos & Buggalo. We say tack on two zeroes, or take a hike."

"Insults aside Dad, gleesh! Rich from me I know, but we've several centuries' worth in assets… Why must you have more?"

"For same reason we demand kids; we want it, screw what comes next!"

"All my dreams hooked or sliced, all so I could be a VESSEL for you? And you won't help them, should I need you?"

"Why would I? Figure I shut them up with inheritance."

Leo to tilt his hat, nasty grin to go, as Amy stewed almost to boiling. Whether spoken for those Bender threats, she couldn't say, but it had her clench fists all the same.

"Think you'll have anything left, when Zookeeper gets hostile? Think he'll care for further rejection?"

"Our slaves are security too; home advantage. Whatever Zookeeper bring, I crush him under boot."

Amy had such an 'invite' all set, yet she did have her concerns all the same… She knew the kind of games Zookeeper could play, and how they'd leave the players.

"Um Dad, for starters, you sure don't treat them very well. I've seen those homes you give them, heard of the casino credits you pay them. Think they wouldn't take any excuse to dust their hands of you?"

"Ungrateful bastards want world from me… And tread carefully daughter, you're on wrong side of fight."

"Just saying, they've loathed us since I was born. Think Zookeeper wouldn't use them against you, that he'd need much to persuade them? Besides, you know I don't come here for pleasure these days."

A scoff as Leo shook his head: "Did you burn fields coming here? You can't handle such smoke."

"Before I said anything, did you actually GAZE upon your ranch? I don't know Abraca-gluck all about labour laws here, but I'm sure they don't permit the rare slither of shadows moving about, do they?"

Was then that the row and ruction kicked off; Leo insisting that his slaves wouldn't dare to steal from him, while Amy dared him to prove it. The moment Inez got involved, shoving between them to split them up, was when Amy tapped a device in her pocket.

A Martian communicator, the broken line of sight her chance to signal that 'posse'.

Had Leo stop his stomps and growls to check that dust storm, the whirlwind within to barrel him out the house and towards the ranch. Safari-suited Martians chanting away, as dozens, scores then hundreds of that prized Buggalo herd got sucked up.

Knuckles to whiten and face to redden; could've resembled the Sun as Amy used the distraction to whip out some Miracle Cream. Super strength to toss her evidence off the planet, seeing it float lazily away as the theft came to a stop. Later surveys to wipe some ten percent off Leo's portfolio, in a matter of minutes.

That short grey crop to sweep about, as he carefully took his hat off. His approach of Amy, caught between fits, as the red dust swirled about his nose.

"For longest time, I hated daughter over son. Now, I hate Zookeeper over daughter! By the ancestors, I'll see him skinned alive."

"How 'bout instead, we just screw him over? Seems only fair, doesn't it?"

"We don't do fair, we say screw him twice back! But how, I wonder?"

"Think you could help cut him off, stamp his name out? Way I see it, if he has such nerve to steal your stuff, he'll soon backstab those buddies of yours too. If they don't convince easy, we've got our evidence back at HQ. What do you say?"

"First worthy idea you had. Inez, quit divorce signing and get phone, I'll do same. We give hellfire, Asian-Martian style… Daughter, leave us be!"

"Thanks Dad, you've always been a good protector. Goodnight!"

Grateful to get away, her smile turned deviant as she made tracks. No price one could pay to forget such payback, and for that power play, the best free entertainment she ever knew. Not for nothing, as her parents had to question such absurd bait at first; If not for that whirlwind, they'd have known and had that excuse to disown her then and there.

Way she saw it though, that part of Leo's herd were safe in the Eastern Hemisphere, corralled in temporary fencing. Her revenge for right now, their insurance policy for later, in case Zookeeper did attempt to foreclose them.

That job and elaborate lie over, all she had to do was collect the footage, send copies over to Mars, and await further instructions. Had she a little time, maybe she'd steal a steamy kiss out of Bender; Kif's tours of duty did leave her lonely, sad to say.

But not as lonely as Leela, especially for the two faces she was about to confront.


	37. A Delivery Overdue

Was said the realm of space was quite the harsh mistress, a tyrant to tolerate no mistake.

The Malumnus System dead ahead; 10 billion Sun trips away, no creature to hear her scream. Only sporadic growls over comms to direct Leela, who knew too well for all the hairplay, exercise, light meals and several bouts of Auto-Pilot. Flights around worlds, through phenomena, and into wormholes, every thought to spasm her throughout.

Of all times, for Zapp's crusade or crew's missions to kick in.

"Over four hundred days, the hell do I say? Okay to go back—no, no! I'm here now, to get in, out and home with answers. So just sign here, Zookeeper… Your delivery of knuckles is on its way."

Empty moons among mobsters, Annihilators and extremists that were cleared for landing; suitable to shadowbox, lift body-weights, and take time to sleep. Her final frontier, where the adventure would be in getting home.

Soon came the day to unsheathe her machete, to cleave herself out of the landing of thick trunks, long branches and green leaves. Made ribbons of them all, before the artificial lights shone and seared her mind.

Blinding memories of open fields, where justice had failed. Beyond her a planet of true fertility; trees from acacia to yew, lakes that meteors could fit in, rivers to stretch for miles. Animals from aardvark to zebra, all to participate and enjoy the ultimate kill-and-eat buffet, or their endless forage in peace.

Her eye to locate the dominion that'd tower above; soot-black monolith of either castle or compound. Her first thought of it being clear compensation, no doubt where she'd find Fry as she fired up her emergency high-speed self-contained escape pack crisis response unit. Her EHSSCEPCRU; most others called it a jet-pack.

Her palms over stone walls as the flag's lazy drift caught her attention. Beyond the wound-up drawbridge, a fancy shield crest with calligraphic scripts of R and A inside, golden lions and hydra dragons in the corners opposite. Arched under, a scrawl to swoop the phrase "Melius abundare quam deficere", on a golden plaque.

"Latin lover, huh? Well, guy his size better take a minute, and ite-wray his ill-way."

Fists to cradle and knuckles to crack, her grappling hook this time to shimmy across the chasm. A slip of hand or foot to ensure her body wouldn't be found, yet she'd need only the odd breath before reaching the other side.

A saunter through a side door, her gasp to hear it thunder shut, and her coughing fits to eat a carpeting rush of dust. Almost pure blackness to confront, save for dim beacons every dozen steps, and her palms to stretch to both walls without effort.

A sudden click and turn of gears to spread-eagle her to the side; thoughts to relax before the clunk almost made splinters of the door. In the little light available, a sarissa some double her height would come inches from taking her intestines.

Her eye to dart and heartbeat to quicken, kicked herself again for another stumble & click. A dart to careen dead-centre into her bicep, couldn't even say "Ow!" before rushes of singles, doubles and triples would bullet for head & toe. Great if lucky skill to enact; dodges, ducks and drop-kicks to spare further injuries.

 _"So far, so good… Screw this, I've a good friend to save."_

Great cares to trouble her, she'd believe, and an ill-advised hustle to set off the side wall spears, mini spikes and flaming lion heads. Her right arm to take a stab and her heels to get ripped up, a lucky collapse her only escape from getting torched alive.

The screams she could've sung for encountering that torture chamber, as she hobbled down the corridor beside it. Relief for the embossed steel to cool her feet, though soon not enough as she fought to stay alive.

Any distraction or detail to push on; flanks of sliding doors, hand-painted crests, golden personnel numbers, all rooms open and not a thing out of place… Took her a half-mile or so, before her trail of blood finally brought her down.

Soldier #1077's room to reach; minute she did, could only whisper prayers before she'd fade out.

Truth be told, one would imagine that it wasn't the delivery she hoped to make…

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A few light slaps to stir her from sleep: "Why Turanga Leela, fine reunion indeed…"

Her city-levelling tide of curses as she gazed about, realised where she stood. Wounds all catered for, but hearts to plummet not just for the caveat of being cuffed up, but to see Admiral inject some purple liquid in her neck.

Zookeeper's finger-twirl of a crank-charge, face as smug as could be, for her scream to pierce the walls.

"Why, it's been years since our last face-to-face. Don't write, don't call, don't… Ah no matter, care for scones, jam & cream?"

"Shove them, Lard Lad. Know damn well I didn't come here for pleasure."

"Levities aside, super-zero, I'd expect better manners from my guests. Your peril to be rude now."

"You don't deserve them, to get that straight. We made our choices, and now we're here."

"Is that so? Well don't keep me waiting, what brings you here to my humble home?"

"Spent all those months seeking justice for my crews, searching for answers, and you're the guy to help me out. That's all you need to know."

A stare back to Admiral; even for that excuse out of nowhere, had him share a quick gaze.

"Aww, dat's show shweet! So you believed you'd rescue your dumb prince, escape my claws and enjoy a fairytale life together? That you'd avenge his worthless little standby?"

Zookeeper's breath, especially for a close-up, to leave her tasting salad.

"If that was all, Captain, let me educate you. Did you think your 'attempts' against my empire would ever thwart me? Sounds like you 'heroes' could use some grit, spit and wits in this battle of ours."

Pleas for fresh air, the way she squirmed: "Heroes no more, I'd say. Just friends out for blood."

His circle about, to study the chains that kept her: "Yes, guess my lure did cross a line by some margin. Truth is, whether by order or offer, you'd never match my eventual desires. Figured it best to end our partnership, nothing personal I'd think."

Her force to try and rip her cuffs off: "Nothing personal? You rip apart a kid who never knew nor cared to involve himself, AFTER you snatched away my fondest crew. Led them into lives I'd never wish on those orphans… How do you expect me to believe you?"

"See His Royal Dumbness could learn a great deal from you," he'd laugh, eyeing his Admiral. "Yes, how else could I stop the tell-all interviews, candid shots and questions asked? Small strides and great leaps, decisive over decision… That's my choice of victory."

Her pull of cuffs to no avail: "Oh cut the crap, you had that win already! Day we traded our Gemerald, all you'd do was throw parties, build castles and stamp your legacy. For us being disgraced, no-one would touch HQ. And you know what, I'd have been happy and none the wiser. Hell, Thomas might never have fallen into our lives."

The Zookeeper to finish his laps, a good huff going before he'd look up, and smirk.

"You just don't get it, do you? When one wants the world and worlds beyond, resistance is a guarantee. And who better than the little lady that spoiled my streak, to kick things off? Figured that I'd split you up, have you give up on fighting for anyone, and render all those efforts of yours moot."

The poison to prickle, sizzle and corrupt; Leela quite aware that upon further delays, she'd be fighting for the wrong reasons.

"For Heaven's Gate, the kid only wanted a better life. Were his methods worth killing him over?"

"Who said I did?" he'd shrug. "Look beside you, for the one to murder him."

Leela to scream and try some kicks out; Admiral to sidestep the attempts and stand there scratching his head.

"You spend years being picked apart in Cookieville, you'd do anything to avoid such weakness too. Did you ever think I'd let those miracles threaten my power, when I'm ready to release my Archbury-branded cologne to market?"

A waddle to a safe, a click of locks and a grip over the sample inside. Didn't even swish for all his shakes, nor for his fond finger tap.

"Soon shall come the day, when I become the Colonel of an army to spread forth and corrupt the stars! Never will I fear defeat or disgrace again, never shall I worry for my next meal, never—"

"Before all your bullshit, you didn't have to worry NOW. So what the hell are you on about, Reggie?"

"REGINALD, Miss Leela! I'm no longer the child that Cookieville tried to crumble. Besides, when one world's all you've ever known, would YOU just give up and retire?"

"Who's wearing the one eye of us both, sweetie? For all of those insults and ceremonies, I STILL became Space Captain, STILL rose above those little bastards. There are battles you will lose… Champions rise back up & fight, they don't threaten the defenceless."

"Latter's worked just fine, looking at you. Now what say you fall in?"

"The Robot Devil shall skate in bladed shoes first… Are we clear?"

"I don't believe I'm offering a choice. Far as I'm concerned, you'll serve me either way."

Leela's futile fight to escape only for Admiral to block her, and Zookeeper's blasts to her stomach to end her resistance. A slow crank to prepare his final shot, just in case, only for sounds of burst bubbles to pound through the walls.

Odd cause for alarm, it'd seem; Twitcher notifications to prick his ears.

"Oh, go to blazes… Admiral, keep a close eye on her, I've a feed or two to investigate."

Leela to see him leave, past that lab to rival any university, and through a curtain besides the lounge. All the screens, seating and snack bars; could only imagine the date nights if not for going cold. Again any detail to focus on; no way would Admiral try to save her life…

 _"Ta-da!"_

Her glance to see Captain Yesterday, her bleed out now no obstacle to try for a hug. Only his hand and whisper to stop her, concerns for survival over reunion.

 _"I love you, but I've got my orders. Can't do anything but let you know of them."_

He'd then transform back into Admiral to exaggerate a narrowed stare. Thankful tears as she gritted teeth, her right boot to kick off her left. The chains gave enough for her to grip the tube, in between toes to flick it onto her body. Cuffs tight around wrists, yet she found ways to uncap the tube.

Minutes over seconds to work out her rubdown, but murmurs of thanks as she powered up, hid the evidence, and bent inward to hide her healed blasts. Moments later the Zookeeper would come back, never expected to see his face be redder than gala wine.

"Care to explain these, Leela?"

Printouts of his Twitcher profile; camera shots of him beating keys as Captain fought her pride. Pitchfork had pierced him good; his footage and Amy's secret reach to not just halt his steady rise in influence, but soon vanish his friends and followers en masse. A big check in life's cosmic chess game, the King under threat.

"Don't look at me, you backstabbing baby! You've had this coming for decades, 'bout time the Fates delivered your sentence."

Coughs over laughs, she hoped, as Zookeeper's teeth threatened to break.

"I swear, Captain, on my good—"

"Swear what, buddy? The damage is done. Your good name's now dust, and nothing will bring it back."

Zookeeper to almost rip his crank off in setting a full charge, as a little chuckle let loose from her lips.

"Life lesson number one… There'll ALWAYS be one bolder, craftier or deadlier than you, perhaps all three if you let them."

"There won't be once my army's in place! And you can start by going to Earth in an urn."

"Reggie, Reggie, Reggie… You kill me, so what? I've already won, and I'm child's play to the universe's armies. You think they wouldn't truce, for light-years of eventual spoils? Here's the facts, fat boy… It's time you face the music, and I do put the 'harm' in Philharmonic."

Archbury shot for the skull; cowered as it caromed off her eye and over his head. Couldn't even scream for the scent of melted electronics, before she'd rip out of her restraints, step back and launch up with a "Hi-yah!"

The spinning jump kick to send that master soaring into the stonework, slam like an ignition-blast. Admiral to still stare Leela down, as she'd nod his way, snatch the sample, and sprint blink-or-miss out of there.

 _"Fatty's ass-whooping can wait, I've some missions and friends to catch up with."_

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Every trap set, every obstacle burst through, every leap to reach her clearing…

Leela took no chances in making escape, especially for worries that those purple-and-black veins only got worse the entire time. Through the bridge, down the ladder, straight to Med-Bay; cupboards ripped open and medicines scattered before she'd find her secret antidote. A top popped, a vein tapped, and just moments from injection when a sharp sting had her scream.

The needle to drop, bounce off her foot, vanish among that pile. Last remnants of rational thought to slip away; only grunts and groans to go with fists that sent the ship lurching.

 _"Antidote… Me had antidote, but no see it… Must find, must stab."_

A scramble to the floor to further scatter her supplies, only memory of it a syringe with green goop inside. Nowhere to be seen even for the usuals; feared her game and Earth's would be over.

"WHERE… MY… JUICE?!"

Pupil to dial giant before she'd crash to the floor; mouth to go slack, knees to meet her chest, her body to convulse. The Admiral to locate the ship, and one to imagine the crusade all over.

Only for Captain Yesterday to come on board; memories of adventures to offer the willpower. Those grunts to double his search efforts, top to bottom deck, and then he'd hear her inside the Med-Bay in the middle.

"Leela… LEELA?!"

"Fry…" A squirm again: "Nee-dull, green stuff, hurry!"

Casting more pills, bottles, and first-aid kits asunder, Fry finally noticed a small metal point poking out. Seemed it had rolled under the counter; instead of just gripping to pull it out, he stretched to fingertips underneath to grab the whole thing.

Wasted time to leave her in seizures; he'd rip the single pillow and mattress apart to try and cushion the blows. Anything for her comfort and against time, as the sweats and antidote juggled in his hands.

 _"For all I hold dear to me, please let my aim be true."_

Her head he'd hold down, his time taken to aim a perfect shot into her neck vein. Shivers in her body, drool from her mouth, and a panic to take hold.

 _"Damn it, the point broke off? No no no no no, come on Leels, don't leave me!"_ Tears in his eyes, a punch and break of medicinal glass elsewhere… A headache with pictures to fire off.

 _"Wait a sec, the syringe liquid has to go in from somewhere."_

Sure enough, he'd crush the tip and clean away the glass, her mouth prised open to pour the contents in. A few minutes spent fearing that nothing had worked, that Leela had corrupted as he did… A smack of lips, small murmurs and a sit-up, to confirm otherwise.

"Fry?"

"Leela?! You're alive?"

"Huh, I guess I am, guess I'm clean too… Thank you."

Her genuine gratitude as he helped her to bridge, only for her to seize him and kick him down the stairs. Clangs, thuds and bumps all the way down, and him to land in quite the heap.

"Ow, ow, ow! Hey, what gives?"

"I love you, and I'm sorry, but you're still too great a risk. It'll be the two of us again, just not—"

"YOU WAITING FOR AN INVITATION, ADMIRAL?! GET AFTER HER THIS INSTANT!"

The roar from the compound to have Leela race for the wheel, try and launch off the planet. But even for the engine's roar and afterburners firing, her ship could only sway and hover about.

"Oh for God's sake, why isn't this ship MOVING?"

Her answer once the ship dropped, her hard fall as she crawled to the windscreen. An all-consumed rage in Admiral's eyes, his leap on top to start punching the hull. All those upgrades to eat lasers and cannons with next to no bother, and yet none to stomach those dints that'd start to appear.

Dints to strand the Captain inside a minute, same one who'd declare their love official…

Yet she'd start to ooze her intents again, even for dire grips. Leela's grin and squinted eye as she brought herself close, hands slapping the glass to gain Admiral's attention.

Soon a lay across her dashboard, her own hints passed of Admiral Fry deserving his just reward.

Legs rubbing over her knees to halt the attack. One boot pulled off, a smirk as her foot glided over the glass, as she'd witness the fight between man and monster begin.

Had a master to please with his punching prowess, but also this showcase to have him shiver. So often his master denied him, maybe just the once wouldn't hurt…

 _"To think I haven't even brought out the girls yet… Fun's just begun, soldier."_

Biceps to peak as her hands reached back, a twist of clip to untie her hair. A simple shake and sway, 'till he'd see it cascade and bounce off her shoulders. His nerve to waver as each massage, each eye flirt, each kissy pout and tongue lick forced a flood of memories to crash over him.

"Ohhh… Want a little more, big boy? I'll be too glad to oblige."

Soon her arms to cross that tank top, a tease and model to go with the slow strip. A 'whip' to work under his collar, one to really burn for seeing her stretch pants start to slide off. Her swivel, face turn and sassy touch of lip, before the view to leave Admiral howling.

Rubs from front to back to soon end the tug of war, a salacious gaze and treasured reveal to have him fall in love, even fall out of love for slipping off the ship. Was then that Leela seized her chance; slams of controls to hover her up, burst her free, and right through those wormholes, Plotz included.

To cause such chaos, give her love a show, and realise how she escaped death again… Could only dance nude in the shower, laughs to hurt her sides as she washed down. A return to bridge to get dressed, all those answers in hand and new ones to seek out aboard the Nimbus.

How the kid held up, whether Zapp would find out, and what he'd do if he did.

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"You mean to tell me that against my orders, you let her ESCAPE?!"

"Affirmative, sir. By the time I manned my ship, she just vanished from sight."

Zookeeper to sidle up close, teeth grinding diamonds as he got nose-to-nose.

 _"Make me suspect failure or defiance again, and I'll take your Captain and watch her kill you. Got it?"_

Admiral could only hang his head, while the career criminal stropped off to stare at his ruined screen. His mouth to lather a rabies-like froth; all those decades to create his legacy, only for his old playthings to crater it in weeks.

"This what they want from me? Then let's get serious; not like I never learnt anything on the streets."

Ticking as clockwork, his mind to run its gamut of sinister prospects, only halting at one.

"Of course, that damned Miracle Cream! Been so used to victory, I didn't think of ensuring it. Since I've bought out or destroyed those suppliers, seems her dead crewman's helped from beyond the grave. Well, I didn't get and keep all I've built for nothing…"

Ordering Admiral to carry him towards his bedroom, a king-like affair to feature an arcade-sized games room, he'd find one of his dozens of portraits to rip off the wall. Small black safe behind, a few clicks until he held his nastiest secret of all. Cylindrical canister now in his fingers, identical to what Leela had just pilfered.

"They want to light fires under me, Admiral? Then I shall pay them that visit, and show how bright I can burn."


	38. Cornering Animals (NEW)

Space finally hers to breathe, Leela figured she'd relieve Zapp, fingers crossed, of any stowaways.

Yet for quick errands all; clean clothes, ship repairs and dinner set purchases, she just couldn't help but squirm for docking aboard the Nimbus. Shivers as Kif stood ready at her ship, gritted teeth for taking that wrong turn… The worst of both when she realised who her escort was for.

"Was hoping you'd come back. Top, bottom or beside me, you've always been my favourite Captain. Pains me so to do this…"

No words as she'd wince for wrists being grabbed; metal and laser cuffs to form over them. Could've caught flies; instead she'd crane her neck, purse her lips and slit her eye for both, despite Kif's eyes of shame.

"Oh Lord, I'm under arrest? What grounds this time, you overspilt sack of crap?"

His pose of classic heroes, a head jut to the roof: "For littering aboard a DOOP vessel; under Brannigan's Law, arrest is mandatory."

"I haven't eaten a single crumb since I—"

His look back: "You've still discarded trash on my ship, regardless. You're smart for a woman, you'll figure it out."

"Oh you've GOT to be kidding me! Now it's a felony to save a life?"

"For the life you saved, you should feel lucky that I bargained you down from treason. Grateful, I might add. Threaten this DOOP General, threaten our entire planet. End of story."

"You keep telling yourself that, 'cause NO-ONE else will. And really? You've seen Mayfield, what threat could he possibly present? And unless it's anything other than 'love', don't bother."

"Aside from doing it Leela, you left my competition behind. Seems we WERE meant to be after all…"

The General then led her beyond the Med-Bays and towards a glass-encased airlock, his arm wrapped and squeezing a shoulder the whole while. To see the kid lie, still the Swiss cheese of such weeks ago, had Leela attempt to break out.

No such luck, but thankful whispers to check his monitor. Vitals to remain steady and the worms not quitting yet; course, all it'd take was a slip of the hand…

"You. Rat. Bastard…"

"Quite the alien anomaly, your friend. Figured for my safety, I'd give him his own private wing. I'm of an opinion that he can fly, but how 'bout a month of dates to let you both go? You & me, our favourite Lovenasium?"

"How about zero dates?"

"I'm the one holding the cards now Leela, so let the negotiations begin.… Three weeks."

"My offer remains at zero."

"Two weeks."

"Zero will remain zero, end of discussion."

"A shame, really…" His finger to inch towards the button: "Your boy had so much potential."

"Haven't the time nor patience, so listen good General. As we speak, I have a 'friend' who's eager to declare war, for everything my crews—then, now and by my order—have done. And for the one you're holding hostage, he's not the type to negotiate a deal."

"Explains so much why you keep coming back," Zapp palmed his hips. "To have friends declare war, no wonder you need—"

" _Jefferson my starship…_ 'Friend' is being sarcastic, idiot! Had a side hustle once; we'd meet and grudge over his planned Gemerald heist. Foiled the theft but not him; never knew he—"

"Mm-hmm, uh-huh, I see—" Eyes anywhere but on Leela, chin to rest upon fingers.

A foot stomp to grab him back, his hop about before he'd cuff Leela's legs too. "Ages after he won our feud, he'd STILL choose to rip our lives apart. Long story short, I've begged for his head since, and we've never come closer now."

"And where does your fiancé figure in all this?"

"His secrets, our efforts, and a scumbag well-served. 'Friend' to desire that I lose everything; business hasn't been better, I've found old friends through new ones, and together, we reduced HIM to nothing. So question Zapp, think he'll appreciate you protecting him all those weeks?"

"A classic Captain's bluff, but my high card beats your beautiful pair, every time."

"You willing to straight flush yourself, and your full house Nimbus, on such a gamble? I'm offering a huge lifeline in taking him back, so I'd suggest you shut up and thank me… We BOTH know you've failed against much less."

"An offer to consider in good time. Or if you ask a little more 'sexfully', an answer right now."

Her attempts to purr, though not without a sigh: "Please? Big Z? You can rub on my skin cream?"

"Oh-ho, score one for Brannigan!" A pump of fists, before shaking her: "Where is it, where is it?"

A lift of her left boot; eager Zapp to almost topple her for ripping it off. Tube snatched off the ground, a good glob soon on his glove. Over her face, down her arms, and then a deep dive into her tank top, smooth glides from start to finish.

"No better appetiser Captain… Soon you'll be tasting my sweet, sweet Miracle Cream. Bam." She'd almost paint the place in bile for his crotch point, until she heard her restraints groan.

"Frankly my Captain,"—she'd grin and kiss goodnight—"I've much better plans."

Moments to break free and finger-flick his skull, wet concrete to drop cold. Easy drag of body to scan his hand; glass doors to slide open as she'd rip those tubes off and carry Mayfield over her shoulder. Temptations to toss Zapp inside, figured a sprint to save a life was a better use of time.

Body laid on the nearest bed, soon the sounds of crushed ceramic and broken metal.

Pieces lined in his gut, a gentle clasp of hands as she watched the break down. Many minutes to tick, before she'd find the organs rebuild and the wounds patch up. Whole life even to now; do things right, do them yourself.

To see him curse Bender's name, take stock of the lilac sheets and large window, was to have her breathe deep.

"Ugghhh, fair dinkum… Feel like I've woken from a bloody autopsy."

"Don't ever say that, Thomas. You don't realise how close you ended up."

"Captain? Oh aren't you a sight for sore everythings? Could've sworn I'd been ripped to shreds, the hell did we—"

"You just get in the shower, while I get us home. I've a feeling there'll be much to discuss."

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Kid's hug and kiss of solid land, to sweep a fiery courage through Captain and HQ.

But to see the whiskeys and ciders wheeled in, a grill to sizzle, and everyone hustle into hugs, it'd just have him scratch his head. Such celebrations to need a reason, but on the other hand—odd turn of phrase—he wasn't sure for what.

Bender's raise of tongs as the kid wiped spit from his lips: "Sup, cue-ball? Figured we'd enjoy some good barbecue, you in?"

"Sure, but just one question… The hell'd you shove me up front for? Just 'cause you couldn't wait a minute, I had to get aired out by lasers?"

"Because you were in my way, and wasting my time." A glare as red-hot tongs aimed at the scar. "Turns out to grill that meatbag, we DON'T need you."

"Whoa, hold it!" Leela got in between. "It's true we did the hard work Bender, but Thomas here kicked us off. Kept our secrets too; had he not, we'd have never gotten this far…"

Tempers cooled as she sat near the cooler, cracking open a cider.

"So kid, what do you remember of Chapek-9?"

"Aside from Bender's shove? We'd tell stories and erase his part, there'd be some God-awful yodel, we'd get plunged into war, and—"

"That's good enough. You can thank Captain Craven for the war; robots believed we started it. His tracker, from a 'gift' of his, the culprit. When you didn't die in the crossfire, he left you inside his ship's spare airlock. Instead of medical attention, he'd bargain your life for my favours."

Bile to surge up the kid's throat: "I see him again… swear I'll rip his SPINE out!"

"Pffft, good luck finding it. Nuking our alliance aside, all he did was waste soldiers and put us in danger. Best part though? I got a guard of honour once I got done whupping him."

"Sorry lady, but he deserves my taste too. Even though you deliver it leagues better."

"Kid, if I couldn't knock sense into him, what hope do you have? Way he spoke about you, about those he doomed, I'd—"

"Let's just move on. So for all the happy faces, drinks and barbecues, I imagine you all did well?"

"Exposed and erased Reggie's rep, caused tens of millions in damages, stole his only world-ending serum. All in about two weeks, so why don't you tell me?"

"Struth? That's news I'll drink to! And yet I can't believe it—"

"Oh who cares, you insufferable mirror-head?" Bender cut him off. "Guy's as good as gone, he's never coming back!"

"Bender, you do realise he's still—"

Again the tongs to brandish: "I SAID JOIN US!"

"And I reply shut up & listen! Fact is, Bender, he's still got Fry. Fact is, he ripped me apart for my so-called secrets, even for having everything. Fact is, had Leela not fed me that sandwich, I doubt I'd be sitting here."

"What is it with you meat-bags and being so fragile?"

"Fragile though I am, forgetful I am NOT. He's no longer the lion, it's true, but he's still a walking honey badger. Corner a creature like that, and you'll beg that you backed off."

Bender grumbled and kept cooking, while Leela handed Mayfield the sample. One to scare him to his core, swore he could've created a void just for pouring it.

"And Gods forbid, here's where it all begins… Keep those snags hot and whiskeys cool, I'll be back soon."

No knock, cry out or yell, to earn any response beyond those doors. Shrugs of shoulders as he just kicked through them instead, wood splinters to scatter everywhere.

"MAYFIELD, I just had those fixed this morning… That's coming right out of your pay!"

"Send the bill after wrinkle-head, right now, we've work to do. Captain pilfered this a week ago; we believe it was used to enslave Fry."

Handed the vial over, so they could both inspect. A bony hand to hold bottomless evil, and he knew more than the kid.

"Satan be my witness, and shudder… What do you request that I do with this?"

"We'll figure the details as we go along, just keep it safe now. Guy we stole it from knows about us, and he'll look to retaliate any day now. He takes back that vial, we're all fucked."

"Language! And child, I may crack bones more than theories these days, but I'll still remind YOU and him of what I can do. He thinks he'll steal my sole pleasures away, he's got another thing damn well coming!"

"Appreciate your hellfire Farnsey, but—"

"The name's FARNSWORTH, confound you! And hell with your approval, just get out of my way!"

"A valid point, just… Take care of yourself, huh?"

Still couldn't help but reserve his steps, fears and doubts to linger over the genuine good vibes. No DOT n' Trot to calm him, nor plate piled high with meat and veg to sate him. Maybe just the stories, to remind him of an ancient folk hero… The Man from Snowy River.

Country horseman, best to ride, tasked to track down an escaped colt of a prized racehorse. Crew gathered to chase the colt's mob, hours and hours down empty plains and up summits, until those wild beasts tackled the slope of loose stones, fallen timber and wombat holes.

Any slip an instant death, every rider to halt. Would believe and accept that their prize was gone, but The Man would echo his holler, give the horse his head, and plunge down from the peak. Stockwhip lashes and fearless gallops, to not just survive the descent, but stun the riders for corralling that entire mob.

Quick notes of an epic chase; begged for a galactic remake. Captain and crew as the horsemen, both safe returns and peace as the mob, and Zookeeper & Zapp—possibly—as that entire ride ahead.

For the few hours of fun and stories, and worries aside for missing rent, Mayfield would wish everyone goodnight, his tummy full and head enjoying a buzz. Didn't think it'd get worse than his first days—back home & here—without family.

But to look backwards towards HQ, and encounter that next week he'd sooner forget, he'd admit to believing that he could handle things on his own now. Life to take its gradual climb to normal, a climb that all the crew could cherish.

No way could they suffer much worse, not even from their greatest arch-nemesis of all.

 **(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

A windy Friday evening, and an intruder ready to rebuild from the ground up.

Their tube to HQ and a scan about the perimeter, fits of snickers for the ease of entry. Big bag of burglar's tools in their hands, and quite the skill to stay quiet and sneak about, soon sighting their all-time PITAs.

Those proven pains to prepare his gun; locked, cocked and dying to shock them out of commission.

 _"Well well, all days to declare overtime… Lucky I've a few charges handy."_

Through a scope, three headshots in the dark to drop them. Captain, pupil and mutual friend to scream and shout, but no further resistance as they took the chance to loot them. A scent to wrinkle noses, and not the only secret as they slunk around the lab.

 _"Terrible shame, just robot decoys. But what's this before them?"_

A sheet pulled off to reveal HQ's machine; a fiddle and mess 'round to bring about a sinister smirk.

 _"Of course, how could I've been so blind? Such brilliant technology, only one man capable of creating it. And speak of the devil…"_

Not five minutes after came Farnsworth on the hunt; midnight snack to leave him incurious to the crackles, sparks and molten steel. For the beast below, a lick of lips and rub of hands.

 _"A two-for-one buffet… My long search is over, it seems."_

A flush of face to stalk such prey, but a necessary task as they'd jolt backwards into the fridge.

"W-w-w-w… Who the hell are you?"

"My dear friend… Hubert Farnsworth, I presume?"

Hands to pounce over that throat, leave that ancient corpse clawing for air as the squeeze grew tighter.

"I'll be the one to ask questions. You help me out, there'll be no concern nor monkey business from me."

"Get out of my headquarters, Zookeeper!"

"No, no, no… That won't do." Almost blacked him out, a miracle he didn't break his neck. "May I remind you old man, that you've got 206 bones, and that you're trying for zero? Now let's try again."

"Take my bones, I don't care! Kidnap my uncle, only request you'll get is to GO TO HELL!"

"You can give me a guided tour, I'd bet. But otherwise, perhaps I can sweeten the pot."

A look given to melt flesh from bone, to break seventeen decades' of stubborn pride then and there.

"You want your uncle back, I want answers. Refuse, and not only will I 'retire' him, I'll personally leave nothing to clone from. Your crew and colleagues will know of your choice; imagine they'll expose every last corner of your life… Do I make myself clear?"

Not the first threat of blackmail, but the first to likely go through. Pleading to be let go, he'd shuffle his quickest to expose the lot; blueprints in that drawer, extra notes in the counter, whatever Zookeeper wanted and then some.

"My my, sack hasn't been this full in years. That wasn't hard now, was it?"

"There, there, you got what you wanted… Now get out!"

"Yes, it's tiring to be a tyrant. How 'bout your one to three grams of L-tryptophan?"

"Hu-wha? What are you—"

Those forearms to cut the air from his throat; wasn't long before Zookeeper carried him to his ensuite. After a nice tuck into bed, and getting the green light on threats, he'd rub his copy of Miracle Cream upon himself.

Knew he'd game himself too great an advantage, especially once his fists crucified the cloning machine. After that they could keep the vial; wouldn't live long enough to reverse-engineer it, even if they could.

As Saturday's midnight hour came to pass, Zookeeper would rehome in his icy cavern—how it stood through those summers, no-one dared to ask. His stolen plans spread out, black coffees to bury them, while the walls would echo with voices, hums of study, and scratches over schematics.

Thuds and booms of hammers on metal, a crackling fusion for those welds together, and a most colourful vocabulary for each presumed mistake. Sunday sunrise to put the final touches together, his modern spin on Farnsworth's classic.

To crane the necks of giraffes, to stand wider than a row of elephants, and to rival supercomputers, the CM2.0. Thirty straight hours of work and miracles, and still needs to test her as he slid his secret policy inside.

To watch his baby go orders beyond not just the original, but anything an academy of inventors could imagine, it'd release a laugh to chill the Sun.

To count those dozen tubes in a minute, all limits broken, was to have him enjoy a ramble of command, victory and realising a dream. First of several folders soon in his hands; personal details of the one he missed mangling the most.

"First, I'll loot my tribute from little Thomas, erase that crew from existence, and rend that HQ to rubble. So congratulations Planet Express! You've graduated from the cubs table, now prepare to play among lions!"

The night spent enacting HIS laws of the jungle, just for those who gifted him back the old life…


	39. Retaliation (6E)

**Chapter 40:**

 **Retaliation**

* * *

 _"So good to me… Guess there's always Zookeeper's defeat to reflect on."_

Nearly five months from first tasting city soil, Mayfield gave just heavy shrugs as he woke for his latest week of overdue deliveries. Of an anger hotter than the toaster he got going, when he heard a sudden crunch on his balcony.

First might've thought it to be his Captain, but backed off quick when it resembled 'Admiral Fry' at a glance.

 _"Bloody invite yourself in, then…"_

Keeping a cautious eye open as he munched his buttered bread, as he buttoned up his usual wears, he noticed the creature do nothing but upend couch cushions, peer through drawers, search under counters…

It was the disembodied voice that made them most unwelcome: "Perhaps you oughta be more thorough. Take the place apart, it's not like he can stop you…"

Mayfield had only dry gulps as the mysterious creature hammer fisted, karate chopped, and gripped to crack, chip and rip up everything in its path. Heart reaching his throat in real time, his apartment had been splintered through, folded in half, or left as a mess of fluff, metal & material.

His head swivelling towards the front door or bathroom, he tried to weigh each option as thorough and quick as he could. Having no cream on him, he wouldn't escape for long. Yet chancing the cream would make a foregone conclusion come sooner… But worse was to come, for the simpering, slick tone to now echo about.

"Well, heroes DO surprise me. First they steal, now they lie. Get your host to show you, any means will do."

 _"Ohhhhhh shit!"_

Had no such barriers nor time to prepare before that thing stalked him, seized the scruff of his neck. A loud chuckle in the walls, of both delight & malice.

"It looks like our delivery boy's back from the dead… Most joyous news! A detour I'll soon correct, unless you hand over your creams."

 _"I gave them away."_

"You haven't been here to do that since I placed you in a coma. So cut the crap, where are they?"

 _"What difference would it make? Take my stash, we'll just make more."_

Zookeeper had the kid javelined through his bedroom door: "You believe so? Must I remind you of how I reward defiance? Your friends are learning their lessons; I'll end it early for your creams."

 _"Fine arsehole… I'll lead you there, just leave me alone."_

Nowhere to run or hide, the kid upon reveal was soon sent crashing through the bathroom door, picking splinters and stemming wounds before he peeled off some tiles. Tried fiddling with his safe lock to stall for time, but didn't fool that villain for long. He was dragged aside, the safe was burst through, his creams were seized, and the walls started to snicker.

 _"A trade's a trade, Thomas… Private, kill our host, and by all means take your time."_

Could only spit in the beast's face, scared for his leave before sudden rushes of wind and combos broke that would-be massacre up.

"Hold still kid!"

Captain Leela, having held her own against Mayfield's nightmare, had used those precious seconds to power up her charge, enough to ready him once Leela's creature burst through. Splitting the battle via an eye-poke, he knew for better experience that he was at a disadvantage.

Long as he could hold them off, adapt while they learned on the fly…

The apartment was already a bomb test long before Mayfield or the creature pulled out every dirty trick, weapon strike and use of environment they could. Even for the occasional slip, his defensive game was just enough to let his Captain exploit her aggressor's weak angles. No wall voices could counter such tactics, read those instincts or challenge those strengths; she emerged victorious by dropping the creature cold.

Fights grew much easier once she double-teamed and curb stomped Mayfield's intruder, as they allowed themselves a small moment to survey the damage, to ventilate against their latest brush from the Reaper.

 _"Sweet thundering Almighty…_ What in the HELL were those things?!"

"Spare me your freak-outs Thomas, we've got to save the others!"

Hearing no more voices in the walls, Mayfield snatched his creams back, helped drag a body into the Hudson, and took a good run-up to clear that four-mile gap. Gusts of wind in racing after Leela, soon reaching the immaculate, towering spire that was Amy's upscale apartment. A unique beauty of lemons, hazelnuts and wine, compared to its surrounds of prismed and rocket-shaped dwellings beneath it.

Once he got over his protest for Leela tossing him to top floor, Mayfield spotted Amy swearing in Cantonese, swatting a mop against the toying, 'friendly' horror to face her. Maybe making a similar offer; if Zookeeper ever knew of her true role…

As it stood, all they wanted were the creams, at least until Captain and charge stepped in.

Leela began barking orders to attract attention, and protect her co-pilot while she let her fists and Mayfield's boots drown out the wall's words. Their two-on-one soon silenced that creature, maybe for good when Amy powered up and assisted in sending them sailing towards the horizon.

Next stop was Robot Arms Apartments; yet another Bender rescue as Leela led them up those stairs. Could've been a couple hundred stories of bullet speed running, before they tore through the door of Room 00100100. The dollar sign in his language, perhaps appropriate for seeing him get the sense pounded out of him.

Another would-be world champion, before the three bum-rushed them to cut such dreams short. Dumping the Hell-damned beast out the window, its impact causing a mini-quake to alarm several residents within, the four crew members soon found themselves in a huddle. Verges of tears, as the adrenaline wore off, as they rubbed themselves down again to make sure.

 _"The hell does it take? We went through all that trouble for nothing?"_ Leela looked close to tearing her ponytail off.

 _"It's been your efforts to keep us breathing Captain, so thank you. Didn't think he'd sit quiet, but this…"_ Mayfield was caught between shoulder pats and dazed facepalms.

Amy fell in racks into Leela's shoulder, as Bender hugged them all: _"For all the black holes, hostile aliens, extreme environments and nasty customers, I'd rather relive them back-to-back…"_

Obvious scares and escalated threats be damned, Leela knew she had to let her Captain side overtake the civilian.

"Can say that again Amy. I know I grabbed that sample and I know I handed it to you Thomas… You did what I asked, right?"

"Seriously Captain? Of course I did! Between you giving me my second chance, and him who tried to rip that apart, who'd you think I'd side with? Even for the beat-downs, it's no contest."

"Appreciate it kid. Well can only imagine that unless he had a spare, he stole his sample back. Which means…"

"The Professor!" they all called out at once. They gathered ready to rush off, before Bender yelled out.

"Oh, yeah, thank you very much meatbags! You expect me, Bender, to live good and well in this dump?"

Leela's eye could've melted iron: "We've got more pressing matters, so either you clean up, or you join us. I've not the time nor mood for anything else."

Her young charge gulped: "Hundred percent. Time we separate the commanders from the red shirts; if we don't get ideas cooking soon, then we'd better hope our cream makes a great lubricant."

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Scorching trails of fire through the city streets, everyone arrived at HQ to find a gibbering Professor being tended to by Zoidberg & Hermes. Despite all evidence to the contrary, the ancient one had refused to believe that he slept the whole weekend away.

Leela almost broke his neck for shaking him: "Okay Hubert, you mind telling me why we were ATTACKED in our own homes this morning?"

"Think I've got any clue Leela? I feared we were getting time skips again; Hermes damn near dropped me dead for telling me it was Monday. Go get the Memoray, would you?"

Once he set his grey matter aglow, he bored them of every last excruciating detail—time and date of waking, to all the steps counted, to fridge model numbers—before he remembered being choked aloft, hearing all those distinct threats, and his squeal to save Fry's life. An hour's story or so, which had ended with their chokehold and his fade to black.

Leela could only roar for leaving the Zookeeper alive—"I should've goddamned known!"—while Mayfield stumbled back into the railing.

"Wait whoa, say that again?"

"Yes Mayflower… Not only did he steal my blueprints, he smashed HQ's machine to bits. Raided anything he got those greasy paws on."

"Hijo de puta, oh mierda… Please tell me you've still got the sample?"

"You asked that I kept it 'safe', and I did."

"Thank the merciful heavens… Least we've got something against the hell to come. And it's gonna be some seventh-layer shit."

"Meaning what, kid?"

"Meaning, Captain, that Zookeeper not only cut our legs off, he's created a mechanical monster out of them. Those four bastards we faced were just appetisers; he keeps cranking them out, we'll be lucky to last 'till Halloween… How appropriate."

"So in so many words, you're saying that we'd be—"

"DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!"

"Thank you Bender. And unless we get this BIG problem fixed, our customers can go straight to hell. Do I speak on everyone's behalf?"

The Professor's protests were drowned under choruses of "Amen!" and "Hear hear!" Defeated, he stood and cracked his back.

"Oh foo, well I s'pose I'd best call some fellow brains to our cause. Thought about curing Fry's enslavement all those weeks, and I'm thinking I could reverse-engineer that sample into an antidote."

Zoidberg piped up as he sponged his forehead: "But even for calling every scientist on Earth, why not, how long could such a thing take?"

"Damned if I know, Johnny! An hour, the rest of my life, a hundred million years? I'm as clueless now as you've been always."

"Well better be quick about it, 'cause we can't afford much more," Leela declared. "As for us crew, we're gonna need places to hide… Suggestions?"

"I take it we can't just hunker down somewhere on Earth, hoping to wait this mess out?"

"Quite right kid, in fact, I'd be tempted to think that Earth's out of the question altogether." She then massaged her head: " _Think, you caffeine-deprived brain, think…_ How about Amazonia?"

"Much as I'd love a 12-foot, one-tonne lady of muscle to look after us, Captain, I gotta be blunt here. They never struck me as bright; I can't imagine they'd fare well against such adaptive creatures."

"Floor's yours pal,"—Leela frowned and crossed arms—"if you think you've any better ideas."

"Look, there'd never be enough cream to power them up, it'd take too long even if there was, and against all those, foolish pride would have them refuse it anyway! Crazy as it might sound, did you ever pass a planet of superheroes by chance?"

"Ughhh…" An eye roll to meet her brain. "Thomas, hate to harsh your dreams, but that's the dumbest thing I've heard from you! What kind of planet, this 'utopia' if you will, would remain without ordinary citizens to save?"

"Isn't Earth just a grain of sand here? What about the entire beach of possibilities to discover?"

"Get this through—"

"You mean there's—"

"Get this through your head kid, no such place exists! Believe you me, I'd just LOVE to magic this crap out, but anything you've ever known, dreamed of or couldn't imagine, we've gone and delivered it there, if not mapped it out. It's not happening, end of story."

His shoulders and eyes sank: "Lady Killer AND dream killer, huh?"

"If you remember how I grew up, that should come as no surprise."

"I hear ya. Wished for miracles your whole life; save for rare friendship you were let down & hurt. Guess if you wanted them, you had to be them huh?"

"Can't get careless or complacent, when neither Gods nor man stay in your corner for long. You know our creed by now."

"Pfft, easier said when you've had to do so your whole life. Were it any other situation for me, the bugs would've picked my bones clean by now."

As the crew racked their brains, The Professor had made his calls; soon none other than Dr. Ogden Wernstrom had strutted into the hangar and towards the lab. With Chinese grad students in tow, he felt his bowels shrivel for the old teacher who addressed him.

"WERNSTROM!"

"Great, had to be the Death Clock schlock to lead this experiment… Just get Leela to take me to Mars, would you?"

"You'll get the door instead. Besides, once Earth goes, you know Mars will be next. I'd only regret not living to see you get ripped apart."

Their petty beef over penmanship and grading had sizzled for some time, before those Chinese students got in between. Bitter roots became begrudging stalemates; now came the time to study that compound, and answer the big questions.

Questions that between crew, had Mayfield in surrendering shrugs and throws of hand, his suggestions shot down as Leela gave them mournful grimaces. A small break to caffeinate, then she laid it on them.

"This'll be the worst decision bar none that I'll make as Captain, but maybe we'd better stay back and fight."

"Abso-fucking-lutely!" Mayfield pitched. "You already forgot that last hour?"

"Do I look like I have, Thomas? No, but who's to say that we've got a choice now? We keep running, and he'll just stalk and hunt us down with impunity. What would that solve? To finish this nonsense, we put him away or worst case, we put him down."

"Worst case my arse, it's open-and-shut that he should die screaming!"

"No way kid. For starters, that's much quicker than he deserves."

"You think we can afford such a frivolous luxury now? If just those four gave us such trouble…"

The conclusion grew more obvious, and less desired, for each passing moment. Only one team had the money and resources to possibly outdo such forces, and that was the biggest tuna of all. Featuring the absolute most rotten of heads, as Mayfield had come to realise.

"Guys, give me your worst if I deserve it… I think we'll be needing DOOP's help on this one."

Leela could've fell, instead she stood aghast: "Oh no, are you INSANE?! How in every Lord's name do you think Captain Catastrophe will lead us to victory? He lost over a hundred thousand men and almost our lives, against worthless robots for comparison."

Bender glared and got in her face: "You watch your mouth, Leela! Robots will never be inferior to humans."

"Sorry Bender, but she's got a point. Against Archbury, your former citizens wouldn't stand a chance, and only our army's got the means to match him. Look Captain, we've got nothing we can exploit over them, and besides all that, did I say that Zapp would be in command?"

Her face steamed fit to burst: "We'd have no choice idiot, don't you get that? He's done countless things that any other time, would've seen him martialled and marched out of an airlock. Nixon's given his full support, and even DOOP doesn't care now! Man acts like he's General-for-Life, but he might as well be."

A rub of the beard: "Maybe there's one person, even if—"

"Choose your next words carefully pal, unless so help me Lord, you want to be bitch-slapped to death by your other arm. Got it?"

 _"How did Fry ever handle a woman like her?"_ The threat had him zip his jacket, almost dropping cold then & there.

"Back the hell off! To clarify, I'm asking about being WITH him, not ON him. To get that self-absorbed dolt wrapped 'round your finger, however you do so, before putting that two-faced fat bastard to sleep. After that, we can insert Kif as the new leader."

"Kif's been Brannigan's bitch for years, you really expect that he'll stand up to him, to our President, or to The Zookeeper?"

Amy palmed her hips, a little indignant: "Hello, Earth to Leela? ANYONE'S a better leader than Zapp, you know this. You talk of combat, recon, diplomacy, operations, work ethic & results, that's like pitting you and Thomas in a fight to the death!"

"God, I hope not!"

"I'm talking, so quiet rookie. Anyway, you don't think my Kiffy harbours quiet resentment for that? Being sullied with orders not even a Private would suffer? Always knowing he's much more capable than literal slavery? Constantly fearing that some trumped-up discharge could scrub away his entire life?"

Mayfield shrunk back inside, withering from his Captain's cross gaze. "When I thought I couldn't hate a man more… That rancid little c—"

"Consider that, guys. Zapp falters for ANY reason, and Kif will snatch that seat of command so fast he'll redefine light-speed. Anything to escape that puffed-up pig's shadow."

Upon calls for 'Ayes' and 'Nays', Leela only groaned once the 'Ayes' overwhelmingly won. Now the next stage of Operation Overkill—who'd be best for what, and why.

"Being the most social one around here,"—Amy kicked off—"I believe I've got a plan. Bender will grab what we need to award Zapp his 'R&R'. I'll date Kif in the meanwhile, take Thomas as the 'wildcard'. And Captain, my deepest apologies, but you'll have the honours of seducing Zapp one-on-one."

Leela got close as to butt her co-pilot's head: "We might be friends Amy, but you still better have a damn good reason."

"Could I offer my take, Captain?"

"I believe I asked her, kid, not you."

"I'd sooner take the hits for lack of justification. After all, who's the experienced one of us both?"

"Well, guess his sarcasm saves you Amy…" Leela then eyeballed Mayfield. "Okay, but it's your head now."

"Back in my comfort zone, it'd seem. Keeping it short, sweet & simple, there's three factors here. First, if work's anything to go by, Bender could outdrink a fish and out-smoke a burning fire. That's an obvious gimme."

A thud of his chest: "Damn right I do, chrome-dome!"

"Second, Amy must go on that date, and if you go with her, that leaves me to Zapp. You still believe I've got an ice cube's chance in hell of a civil meeting? Especially when you want me to convince him, for his slave of all beings, to briefly give up his command? Guy would choke my life away, if not laugh at the absurdity."

"How do you think I feel? I never gave the story of how our relationship came to be, maybe it's time you knew."

"That I recall, no you didn't."

One of few adventures she hadn't revealed in his apartment told him about her string of unsuccessful dates, their early mission to Vergon-6, her first encounter with Zapp, and their private meeting where privates met. Safe to say, Mayfield almost turned inward once she finished.

"And you wonder why I've loathed him all these years."

"Bugger me sideways… I'm sorry to hear that. Even so, he was prepared to kill entire cities of men for your hand and especially my end. What does that tell you of our mutual hatred? Wouldn't surprise me if he ordered no witnesses, all means of escape locked down."

"That's a risk I'm prepared to take."

"Which brings me to point number three, that Kif and I don't know each other, that I can provoke the most natural reaction from him. Besides, he sounds like a creature who wouldn't fight his shadow, never mind a woman of your skill. I've that tough-guy look to convincingly steal the lone light of his life, 'encourage' his fight back. He beats me up, Amy gives him that 'wink & nudge', and then his confidence will take flight."

"And you really think you're just going to reverse all those years of damage, harassment and incompetency over a date, maybe a few if afforded?"

"I can't imagine nor expect a damn thing to happen. But better a slim chance than no chance."

His eyes glinted as hers when a lone hand met her shoulder.

"You go along, I'll come aboard in a heartbeat if need be. Matter of fact, between now and whenever you date, I'll offer my arse for a kicking. And for our universe at stake, I'll make it no holds barred. Just in case Zapp tries any shit against you."

"Thomas, how could I ever entertain that idea? For yet another homeless asshole when we first met, you've been beaten, 'heartbroken', interrogated, ripped apart, caught in war and bargained for in the months since. All to hear my story, avoid that creep's hand, and try to rescue my friends. For listing people I'd rather not beat, you're light-years ahead of Zapp here."

"That'll be all for nothing if our plan fumbles apart. Zapp fancies himself an alpha, and he WILL establish his dominance one way or another. I'd rather you beat me up to practice against such situations, than to give that smug prick his chance."

"I'll keep that firmly in mind… Okay everybody, hands or fists in."

A huge cry to battle sounded, as the crew went their separate ways. Best they had it seemed, against the vicious air ripped from their lungs.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Leela had to listen to Brannigan praise himself until, in great huffing breaths, he grabbed his phone. Stomach still gurgling, she made it quick and clear that she wanted a private date for Friday evening, a chance to have her assaults forgiven, and to get that much-needed backup. Hung up right after, not wanting to chance any conversation.

Quite a few things for her shopping list now; a modest yet imaginative dress, and perhaps a gallon of petroleum jelly in case he got too grabby. Couldn't use Miracle Cream; the temptation to rip him apart would've been too great.

Second, some topics to keep her date chatting, since his mind might've orbited around doing the horizontal Charleston. More a matter of personal pride, to avoid his self-proclaimed prowess in bed.

And finally, a wish upon trillions of stars that, hopefully, he wouldn't do anything stupid or regrettable.

While Amy grabbed a taxi alongside Mayfield to head to her pad, to hopefully organise a date herself, Bender had remained at HQ, humming for inspiration. Every last vice he'd partaken in, every single crime in his name, and yet uncertainty of anything to cause that temporary coup d'etat…

And then a sudden answer; long before his sources officially turned their backs, they helped him confirm a certain elixir. One where a single shot could kill anything but robots and real iron-livered humans, the Maltese Liquor.

Was said to be an impossible 210-proof whiskey—more alcohol than beverage—that lied in the massive wine cellar of his powerful local senator, Hedonismbot. A few surreptitious drip-drips in either meal or wine, and Zapp would be dozing before dessert, maybe beyond the war to come if lucky.

The odds now as rigged as his games, perhaps more, he knew it'd take returns to his distant past and the rarest of present grave concerns, to succeed. And as he headed towards the front door, he made his intentions known.

"Such a heist could be beyond Bender-esque, but I don't call myself Bender the Magnificent for nothing."


	40. Monkey Wrenches (6E)

**Chapter 41:**

 **Monkey Wrenches**

* * *

Hacking Jack's Fine Smokables, a burgundy-walled tobacconist on the outskirts of the city, had oftentimes been Bender's favourite place to browse. And for a discerning criminal like him, to also rob blind for the quality cigars and cigarettes all over the window displays, plastered on walls and stuffed in counters.

99 times out of 100, Bender would snatch himself a free handful—chest-full if brazen—of nice Zubans, all while Hacking Jack would keep sorting those tampered displays and suspicious messes in between grumbles. Helping himself to Amy's bail money aside, the former Mayor cared nothing for being caught, only that he rose his reputation.

But reputation and karma had quite a connection… Turned out those shop owners, those whose livelihoods he anchored in those good days, had only grown colder over his absence. Against open contempt of him and by extension the city's justice system, they'd have private sit-downs to discuss how to 'solve' their problem.

Hacking Jack, for bearing the biggest grudge of the lot, would happen to hold the solution.

One he began to enact as Bender walked in, scratching off his shavings and shutting eyes for the memories. A feel for the Royal Kooparillo wrappings, spouting knowledge about the Zuban's rich flavours, and taking deep breaths for Dutch Butt tobacco content.

No care nor worry for being eyed or heard, even as the man watching looked more lit up, burnt and smoking than their own goods.

Sure as skies were blue, there once again stood his worst liability—by a parsec-wide margin. Had cost him countless thousands in lost sales over the years, but one incident he never forgave himself for was being swindled out of his best acquisition yet… Le Grand Cigar.

Wrapped in pages of the original U.S. Constitution, hand-rolled by a wild and unruly Queen Elizabeth II, and buried in George Burns' grave (and on and on the story went), it was also the fattest stogie one could smoke in several universes. Measuring almost a foot thick in the middle, Bender had loved puffing that impossible sucker at the National Silk Surplus, right in the wealthy faces present.

Where Jack kicked himself sore was selling him the burglar's tools that got it done, where he answered those nakedly obvious questions. A government-funded $300 sale, to cost him a whopping ten THOUSAND dollars in stolen cigar. Maybe lifetime money, had it been properly valued.

All those memories returning in force, as he snapped Bender out of his scented reverie.

"You…"

"Yes it's me, Bender… And I'm back, baby."

"The hell you will be; you've got one chance to get out, right this second."

"Now hold a minute, my good fellow! I'm just here for some tools."

"So you can finish off my business? Give me a reason, and I'll send you to the junkyard."

"For once, I've bigger game to hunt, pal."

Not convinced at all, Hacking Jack began ringing some numbers; Mom's defective bot reporting line, among them. That left Bender reaching to snatch the receiver, desperate to babble his helpless case. Merchant's point of view he claimed; what about all the Zubans he bought, when he could afford them?

"You honestly think, spoken from you and against my records, that I'm stupid enough to fall for that?"

Bender knew he was boned then; for all his crime, he never thought to fudge the numbers. Knew there'd be no replacing the total cost of every "Hi, Jack" and heist he had pulled off. In guilty silence, he watched Jack become a human chimney, grow red enough to seize and point a full-blown laser rifle at his face. Fateful days of Robot Mafias and Zookeepers flashing before him, sending him stumbling back.

The rifle hummed as Bender pleaded for peace and clean slates, only for Hacking Jack to fire a shot into the wall.

"Unlike you, that wall is insured. All us shopkeepers, we've declared you unwelcome, by lethal means if needed. Now I won't warn you again… Gonna leave on your own feet, or shall we cash you in?"

"Come on Jack, look deep in your heart and ask yourself… What did I do to deserve this?!"

Wrong words to wax, as another shot hit Bender square in the chassis. Leaking oil, he clutched and lurched about, groans of agony as Jack cranked up the charge.

"Any last words for such a stupid question?"

"Yeah, I've got two…" he coughed. "Cheese it!"

Overclocked by his cowardice program, Bender virtually vanished right out, and didn't dare to return. Losing his eyes for even poking his head in, he screwed in some spare replacements, sat at a park a block or two away, and began his pout & ponder.

 _"How am I ever gonna prove that I'm stealing for the universe's sake, this time? Think, you magnificent bastard, think…"_

As he kept slamming his steel fist into his head, he watched somebody spark up an oil patch to light a cigarette, a quick smoke to have before flicking the butt into a council-provided bucket. An idea most devious soon flashed inside his drives, had him laugh in malicious intent.

He could prove himself the 'hero', by first being the criminal.

Had often been the case during his time as Super King; leader Clobberella had always forced him to return those stolen bank funds, put out any fires he caused, apprehend instead of accept bribes… For additional plaudits & attention, he'd admit to worse.

Perhaps out of confusion or never getting the full picture, a fair number of citizens often saw his glaring visage do the good deeds, and begin to deem him as Earth's greatest hero. It'd be a reputation his best friends would encourage, that he and most of his sources would resent… Perhaps all had come to head, once The Zookeeper got involved.

Now was the time to break that clean slate, re-establish himself on these streets. And he knew how.

Dumping those butts out, and depositing his oil leak into the bucket, he returned to Hacking Jack's and got into position. Once he crucified the place from afar, only enough to hear him splutter, curse and snatch his rifle, he lit himself a Zuban.

Only needed one spark to light up such a crooked occasion; following a nonchalant flick of rotors, Bender soon had flames snaking about the floor, soon lighting the hundreds of displayed cigars. Just as well that Jack had lungs, and he didn't.

Forced to kiss the floor, Jack could only live to his namesake as he huddled down and tried to scream, waiting for those flames to suffocate him for good.

Least until he began breathing better air, before witnessing Bender use in-built extinguishers to keep the place from collapsing. An extended hand to help him to his feet, once the fires were snuffed.

"I'll thank you not to shoot me next time."

"No promises, but you did save my life. You've got my thanks, and that's all."

"I'll just clear away any smoke, and be on my way."

True to his word, Bender vacuumed those remnants up—getting one HUGE buzz—before grabbing his burglar's tools and crossing his rotors the entire way, trying to stop any further drips of suspicion.

Even when he'd been so out of practice, his crime of 'burglarcenarsony', one he hoped to patent & trademark one day, had come through when needed most.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

The day after a thorough oil change & patch-up, doing much better for being shot, Bender crashed at HQ to prepare for his latest heist. For the possible presence of war, to not discount the ramifications of the ladies' dates, he knew there'd be no time to case the joint, consider the threats and wonder where to collect the goods…

Not that he ever bothered himself with such meticulous plans anyway.

Burglar's kit and barely fake disguise in tow, it was that evening when he grabbed a cab for the property of Hedonism Bot.

More of noblemen than mere politicians, his mansion and lands stretched over tens of thousands of square footage. Front and centre stood a water fountain, fashioned from stone and surrounded in paths dotted by marbled, miniature Doric columns. After boxed hedges trimmed to quantum perfection, guests would be framed by an arched marble column before coming in, palming walls of rich coffee as they were let inside.

In such a palace, one could hear the electrified circuits and cries of "Oh my!" and "Oh, yes!" aplenty, as the Roman-styled senator let his guards feed him grapes, rub sandpaper over his rivets, or lather him in decadent chocolate icing.

Not wanting to disturb the boudoir, Bender slipped out a quality lockpick, having a couple of jiggles before breaking in. Even for how often he invited himself in before, to rediscover such ancient eras of prosperity, advancement and brilliance had still blown him away.

Aside a complete modern bar and cellar laid several pieces of art—expansive, imagined scapes and fine portraits—detailed to atomic-level—to hide the wall. To his left & right, hallways to stretch beyond his zoom lenses, and perhaps filled to stuffing with treasure. Chancing a walk-about, he almost fell apart for what he had found.

 _"All these_ _bedrooms and bathrooms… Just how indulgent do these gatherings get, and what do those guests leave behind?"_

Bender rounded back to the cellar's spiral staircase; he knew he was getting distracted. Daresay even tempted, especially once he laid eyes beyond the cellar. A king's ransom of top-dollar drops, and far from any laser traps, motion detectors, heat sensors or any other deterrent, just a lone Doberman sound asleep.

Flicking the lights, he heard those pronounced barks & growls, the guard dog ready to chomp down on ass—metal or otherwise. Far from great skill or cunning, Bender only needed a raw juicy steak, and solid smack across the skull, to lull and drop the beast.

Now having free reign to explore, he chose to case the place a little, think of the money he could've made pawning everything off. Back to work after a while; investigating that rare hovering brew, and cursing for smacking solid metal.

Later confirmed his fears through a big puff of smoke; an invisible safe had housed the prize. An antique yet well-advanced invention, in days where eye, hand and voiceprint scanners became standard. So much for the quiet, professional touch—none had needed their ears for anything like this.

Worse yet, the safe seemed housed on a pressure pad; to catch a thief like Bender raiding his stores, and be ripped from the realm of self-pleasure, would have to piss his senator off. Sat under the safe, he muttered and scoured through his hard-drive, trying to find inspiration before he just chose to watch some on-board videos.

As he shuffled through, he soon came across the time of great significance in him and his best buddy's life… 'The Search for a Seven-Leaf Clover.'

A crummy day and future capped off at the horse-races, Fry had begun to reminisce about that find, one to grant extraordinary luck in anything he desired to achieve. Only caring about basketball, break-dancing, and beating his older brother in those days, he never imagined the true powers he possessed.

Only knew he had to keep it safe…

The memories preserved within Old New York's ancient underbelly had told the story of Yancy, peeved for being outshone again, chasing Fry back home in a full jumpsuit. Fry knew he wanted that clover for himself, one to again escape his reach and be locked inside Fry's record vault.

Even centuries after such incident, for being frozen and flung so far forward, Fry hadn't let such resentments go. For his stealing, cribbing of styles and constant rivalry, Yancy had always been a pain in his proverbial.

Once he saw his clover in Yancy's statuesque lapel, now named 'Philip J. Fry', he first felt only dismays of being proven right.

Had empty bitterness for those stolen dreams, jealous rage for the documentaries of 'his' life… A mix that grew so volatile that he took his friends grave robbing, determined to compensate his older brother for such suffering.

Only an accidental crack of gravestone moss, and the inscription behind, would switch his entire perspective.

Turned out that Fry had been wrong for years. While the clover was indeed taken since he came back, Yancy never used it solely for himself. Instead, he had named his newborn son in Fry's honour & tribute, and passed the clover down. As that kid grew to achieve every last dream of his kid brother, he enjoyed the extraordinary success—and true closure—that was to come.

First person stepping foot on Mars, the legendary lead vocalist of Leaf Seven, a rich entrepreneur, and a man who'd put the 'Phil' in philanthropist.

At the grave, those words Fry found before bowing his head: "Here lies Philip J. Fry, named for his uncle, to carry on his spirit."

Given the clover, he felt his eyes well up, and chose instead to place his charm back, to give apologies and genuine thanks to his long-dead brother. Filling in the grave he just dug, he'd return home, never to orbit those sacred meadows again.

Remembering how he revealed Fry's prize, or intended to, Bender blew smoke to keep that safe revealed, and felt about for its frequency. Once he did, his oscillation process began; one to involve a violent, noisy shake that popped the door, and his head, loose.

"Ahhh, just like old times."

A chuckle as he span his head back on, only to find himself at the end of laser-tipped weaponry.

"Old times like a crucifixion, the gallows perhaps?"

The senator's guards; to his displeasure he had rattled the safe right off the pad. Must've been a dozen of them ready and itching to slice him to ribbons, make Emmental of him… Worse yet, the normally jovial senator had come down to confront him.

"Why, if it isn't one of my constituents! Pray tell, besides interrupting, what you think you're doing here?"

"I, um, er… I was just checking the place out, yeah. Just me, Bender, hoping to explore what I'd never have."

"Methinks Bender, thou doth take me for a fool. Care to explain how my bottle's clutched in thine rotors?"

"After so many years bending girders, all for three square drinks and a recharge, this honest bot just wanted to taste the fine life…"

As the guards kept their points trained and Bender continued to ramble, Hedonism Bot took the time to scan him over. Seemed against reputation he was true to his word; nothing but the bottle in either chassis or hand. And when he found his bottle's little secret, he ordered those weapons downed.

"Let him go, he has entertained me enough."

"But Senator, sir, we caught him red-handed. We let him go, he's sure to come back."

"What makes thine believe that I'm concerned? I never imagined I'd see an honest burglar in action, and oo-whoo, he's the finest I've seen! I daresay he more than deserves his loot; if he comes back, he'll get worse."

"So last call then, let him go?"

"I must say, it's disappointing you questioned my first."

Thankful for second chances, Bender left debris in cheesing it out the cellar, and didn't stop until he got inside the taxi he had hailed. Couldn't help but feel suspicious though; for the rarest liquor on Earth, that was the 'cleanest' heist he ever pulled.

Finding a small rolled-up label upon a better look at the bottle, he gave only a gasp… The loot hadn't been what he was after, at all! Seemed that his sources, no doubt still riled for being ratted out, had hoped to screw him through a cheap knockoff, one they planted inside the mansion to entice the heist.

But Bender dared not dismiss his senator's generosity, nor of his three hours of hard work. It was a job well done, and to him, that was all there was to care about…

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Around the time Bender completed his heist, Kif had finally delivered the good news to Amy.

After years and years of applying, of watching his papers be shredded, torn or otherwise disposed of, Zapp had finally granted him his R&R. Seeing the chance to celebrate, Amy had organised a date for Elzar's, then & there, within the hour.

For the rookie aside her, such simple ideas of dinner and deceit had switched to something far more complex. Had him thinking he might've chosen to confront Zapp instead; course, for his insurance, temptations were too great to paste his insides all over the Nimbus.

As such, all he could do was pace about, insisting on going over every last plan, doubts sown in that he could sabotage everything with one mistake. For past and future lives, to this present right now, he knew how unprepared, hurt, and embarrassed he'd been.

Even for slow confrontation of fears, of slower cracks in his shell, the thoughts about this date had him shiver, his stomach gurgle. Had kissed only one sole girl outside family & friends, and only out of formal obligation.

Perhaps now, he had to make those first moves. Of all times to be such a complete foreigner…

Kif might've sounded like a pushover, but to be ranked only below President Nixon and General Zapp, he couldn't have been stupid. If Amy had made out with Mayfield instead, he was assured to dump her. For the end of the world after, just heartbreak to show for it.

There he'd walk, working his faces, mannerisms and speech while Amy explained for perhaps the hundredth time. No surprise then, that behind his back, she looked ready to reach for his throat.

She would soon come out a flawless gem, in an aquamarine, empire-waist style dress, a look to leave the kid loose-jawed. For his part of 'selling' the story as Ms. Wong's security detail, he remained in his typical leather jacket, jeans and this time, a pair of reflective aviators.

Dark enough to hide those darting eyes, a million little things through his head as the minutes crept closer…

"Oh man, what do I do? He'll be here any minute, and I swear—"

Amy had seized his throat to shut him up: "Damn you Thomas, listen… Get the hint, get in the zone, and get it together! Right now, I don't wish to explain to Kif why I hired a worthless wuss to protect me… Got it?"

A stunned response of _"Yes ma'am"_ as they heard the doorbell, and she left him shaking his head to answer it.

A big squeal of "Kiffy!" later, there stood the gentleman officer, soon wrapped tight in her arms in his special white uniform. A bouquet of flowers in hand, a gesture that only worsened Mayfield's guilt. To get in between and potentially tear those two apart, for the sake of his new world.

But now that he had seen such love to begin with, he believed in his mind that they could rekindle after. No possibility, if there was no world to do so.

Gloved up, he gave just a muted grunt and handshake while introductions were made, trying to remember those tall tales of his lost arm, burn scars and body of granite. Even as Kif opened doors and kept the conversation going, he kept to that acerbic attitude.

Bad impressions, the first of many games—intentional ones—that Mayfield would play against that hopeful General-in-waiting. All in trying to encourage that tougher side, only for Kif to chastise him under his breath.

But for the dinner to come, that would only be an entrée of what Mayfield could expect.


	41. Lighting the Fuse (6E)

**Chapter 42:**

 **Lighting the Fuse**

* * *

Any other day, Mayfield would've loved to listen to Kif's war stories, on both the battlefield and behind the lines.

Though the planned greetings went off without worries, he couldn't help but bleed nerves as his 'client' and her date boarded her hoversine. For the 'tough guy' who'd seen it all, he just couldn't sit still, as the sparkling starlit skies, bright lights, and taste of finer things swirled in his head… Amy had to keep signalling across, out of Kif's eyesight, for him to focus.

At least already lukewarm receptions grew cooler; he stuck to his script and gave those grunts and "shut-ups", making his disdain rather clear. Made the green one stop cold—his head was buried in his hands by the time they arrived at Elzar's.

Besides acting like an asshole, Mayfield had been far too worried of failure to leave anything to chance. Not helping matters was the glance towards the restaurant's weekly special… Five-Finger Filet Mignon. Couldn't help but really knock his knees hard, enough for Amy to hiss in his ear.

Of all the places to go, it had to be the one serving the rarest 'cuts' of meat…

Left his hands deep in pitch-black pockets, as Amy asked for their reservation. While they got led to the table, he noticed the slews of diners wining and yukking it up; highly-esteemed sorts from the Mayor and his wife, to those you'd expect more at a gas n' greasy spoon than gourmet eatery.

Noticed all the framed photography, large chequered tables and leather-padded seats; to his complete surprise, he even found the back of that world-famous TV chef, handing out some menus. That, among most other things, had him shut his eyes as they sat down.

 _"Get the hint, get in the zone, get it together, and get it done… Get the hint, get in the zone, get it together, and get it done…"_

The mantra led Amy and Kif to exchange uncomfortable side-eyes, and only Amy's whispered shout of _"Hey!"_ snapped him out of it. For Elzar stood at their table, curious or contemptuous towards the stranger upon fixing eyes.

Poor Mayfield had to stuff a fist inside his mouth; His Highness of haute cuisine looked to cross multiple arms, wore an odd-fitting chef's jacket, had grape jelly in place of skin, and wore a head to feature a piggish snout and hi-topped haircut. A humble façade to drop, in the moments of being looked over.

"Hello folks, how we doing this evening? Looking exquisite tonight, I must say! And to treat this bum to a hot meal, might I say, BAM!"

A small head-shake to re-focus: "Speaking of bums, who's the one crapping on, pal? Now you gonna feed us your big mouth, or help us order some food?"

"Taurean meat pie was last week, but believe me, I can help you order. Leg of salmon, Jamaican Jerk Platter, our classic Fish n' Chimps, and of course"—his fingers made a kissing sound—"the Neptunian Burger. I'd take them all as recommendations… They've got amazing profit margins, and they taste fine too."

"Jamaican Jerk Platter it is thanks; that must be your specialty. And if I taste spit in there, I'll shove those four arms up your arse and make you my puppet."

"Okay then… And what can I get the lovely couple?"

Amy was immediate in picking the garden salad, but poor Kif kept poring over the menu, sweats and stammers for his first outside experience in years. SO many options here, but of course, the 'detail' got impatient…

"Listen green skin, I get the worst of moods when I'm starving, so hurry up already!"

"Oh odds and bodkins… J-J-Just surprise me, I can't decide."

Mayfield slid a little closer to Amy, before he cradled his chin and gave a derisive look.

"Oh what a brilliant move, squishy… You realise he's just gonna stick the most expensive thing on YOUR bill, right?"

"Oh jeez! I didn't even think of that… And I thought we agreed to split it!"

"Please… You're her sweetheart, aren't you? Last time I checked, this was a date. Just hope you hit the ATM before you came here."

Kif could only sigh, stare around and mutter for why he agreed to take Mayfield along; such precious magic moments had already begun to snowball courtesy of her obnoxious guard.

For Mayfield, another distraction, another chance to slide until he got about a foot or two away. For Kif over time, chances to strike up and have his conversations. Couldn't help but think that Mayfield had been discarding him on purpose, but didn't dwell for long as the scents of food began to waft about.

Moments later, their dinners had arrived.

For Mayfield, chicken wings, medium steaks and sticky pork ribs, mixed and rubbed in a marinade to leave flecks of spit on his lips. Amy's salad of greens, tomatoes and vegetables, an oldie but goodie. And for that lime-flavoured sucker, both the Big Kahuna and short stick…

A double extra-large King Crab; crown of actual, edible gold, and its body and pincers stretching beyond the table-wide plate it could've sat on. To watch Elzar's need two waiters just to set it down, Mayfield could only groan, unsure whether to mock or show mercy towards the would-be General.

From what Amy advised him, Elzar's had an established reputation for overpricing everything. King Crabs were already rare in his time, and thus expensive, so Mayfield could only dread for and pray towards Kif's bank account tonight.

"Well everybody? To borrow an old phrase… Two four six eight, dig in, don't wait."

For his money or otherwise, Mayfield could guarantee that, unlike Zapp, Elzar had absolute proof behind his arrogance. Upon nibbling the wings, all he knew was tender, juicy explosions of flavour, a New Year's parade of sorts inside his mouth.

Glad he kept his aviators on, for not only did it hide that immense pleasure, but also allowed him to peek over at Kif. For an alien who'd generously be half his size, the way he ripped apart those crab legs, leaving not even a moist slither of meat, left him rubbing his skull.

 _"Good grief, and I thought I had an appetite… They really starve them THAT bad in Zapp's military?"_

No time to ponder about Kif's fortunes, for he had taken a break to begin a conversation.

"So, uhm… You know I've…" He had to sigh. "Don't mean to be rude but, how do you earn your keep, Mr. Mayfield?"

"Can the mister, green skin. As for me, I'm Ms. Wong's security detail, and an occasional mercenary and bounty hunter. Not the safest living, but a lucrative one."

"Strange, I saw you seated at that gala… Weren't you the Planet Express delivery boy?"

"Everyone thinks that, everyone hears the same, that's why it's the perfect cover. And Army or no, you'd do well to keep that under wraps."

"So you help her deliver all those packages, yet your true role's to protect her?"

"You're a credit to your species… But yes, lots of practice making sure that no thief, monster or disaster puts her in harm's way. If you're lucky, it just takes pieces of you. In fact, even against a fourth lieutenant, I'd argue that I fight for, protect, and serve her better than you do."

"I'm sorry, but I'll have you know that I'm second only to our Presidents and Brannigan in—"

"On paper, you are. For what I've seen though, could've fooled me. Zapp's personal wine steward, his 'assistant' to be nice about it, and hell, I saw nothing of you back at Chapek-9…"

"That's not true, and you—"

"Oh yeah, Zapp made quite a scene about you. Didn't hear much, but your incompetence and disobedience really stuck out to me. That's rather quite pathetic; had I led the army, you'd have got your marching orders pronto."

Such a statement had Kif ready to rise and protest his piece, but as he found himself camouflaging from nerves, he sat down quicker than he stood. Knew those words described Zapp over him, but his General had always made the loudest noise in saying otherwise.

In red-faced resentment, he just snatched Elzar's check without saying anything, before he quivered and palmed his face. A several thousand dollar figure, two-thirds alone from the crab, had struck out, and he knew how often Zapp took any opportunity to keep his assistant by his side.

That under oaths of 'Brannigan's Law' he couldn't tell anybody—not even Amy—of the punishments he'd suffer, mostly due to the General's mistakes. Always corrupt power trips to keep him from affording these R&Rs…

Any other creature might've already been court-martialled, but Kif simply asked to be excused as he trudged to the bathroom, tears evident in his eyes. Behind his back, Mayfield could only deflate & crumple, the act gutting him to the point that Amy had to slide HIS way.

 _"Now's our chance, Thomas… How 'bout we make things a little steamy in here?"_

 _"Ohhh, I don't know Amy. Just when I thought that poor bastard's suffered enough… Why make it worse?"_

 _"Because he'll die under that bloated boor instead of under me, and I'll NEVER let that happen. I get the cold feet, I get the sympathies, but now you gotta work with me."_

After a quick breath spray, and a chance to see the lust grow in her eyes & lips, Mayfield found himself caught in an unknown whirlwind of passion. Natural pro to utter rookie; she caressed his shoulder and chest, he rubbed and patted her hand. She leaned in and nuzzled against his cheek, he almost gave a headbutt from leaning too fast.

 _"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!"_

Then came the kisses, where his bad lip timing, wide-open eyes for fears of missing, and lack of variation had left the young lady quite disappointed. Danger signs grew apparent when she began to unbutton his clothes, right as Kif looked to return. Spotting him from several feet away, Mayfield panicked, gripped her dress and ripped it down; the anger and surprise gave him precious seconds to lay her to the booth.

For every pretend kiss and irritated moan of that so-called session, his 'attempt' at seduction had suckered the Fourth Lieutenant in. And if his vicious scowl, ugly eyes and threatening point meant anything…

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I believe, my lime-jellied lackey, that I'm taking over now. Now how 'bout you be yourself, be the egg, and roll over easy?"

"I can't believe this… All those years I wanted R&R, all the hours I counted to this moment, and YOU'RE the one enjoying her lips?!"

"About right, sunshine. Why, was I supposed to believe different, seeing the servile little toad she used to be with?"

"You even tore her dress, you… Last time sir, take your hands off my girlfriend."

"Gimme a good reason to fight, and I'll take it." Mayfield then ripped off his jacket & shirt, his muscles glistening and grin scornful as Kif stared in horror. "Darling, if this dead-set dropkick lies squished in the alleyway, be a dear and vacuum him up."

Following a simple grunt of "after you", both Mayfield and a fuming Kif left out the back. Reaching a most private alley, Kif arguing the whole way, the kid had gloved up and laid in a dirty rabbit punch, leaving him to eat concrete and loose brick.

"Hey, that's hardly sporting!"

"You of all folks should know that life isn't. So, you just gonna lay there?"

Amidst the sounds of yowling cats, they faced each other, nothing but scattered bins and gungy brick walls the only sights now. As Kif took an awkward stance, Mayfield just rolled his eyes.

" _Gods give me strength_ … That's how you plan to win back her hand is it?"

Kif began to back off. "Maybe I'd been a bit too angry… Could we instead discuss this like gentlemen?"

Mayfield closed the distance, and delivered a quick boot to the stomach: "Word of advice, Kif. You can put the 'gentle' in gentleman all you like, but you won't be a man. This city will stomp down creatures like you, long before you get there. Now get up!"

Having done so, Kif got offered a free shot; when he whiffed it, he saw his arm ripped forward, a grab that had him tripped up and kicked again for good measure.

"Fourth Lieutenant, my aching arse… Step it up son, I'm barely sweating here!"

A weak blow to the chin, one Mayfield shrugged off before he grabbed the wrist and yanked down. Having such weight, the force sent Kif smacking his gelatinous face right into the concrete.

"Good Lords man, why do you give me this limp-wristed garbage? No wonder the General speaks so low of you, you believe you DESERVE to be his wine steward, let alone his deputy commander? Maybe you oughta be grateful that he has you paint his nudes, shave his armpits… Scrub his privates."

His secrets out in the open, Kif could only camouflage again: "How do you know of those secret shames? Have you any idea how long I've tried blocking such memories?"

"I've been there squeeze tube, trust and believe that such blocks got me nowhere. How do I know, you ask? In simple terms I'm your life, and so help me, I'm gonna slap you, screw you good, scream at you, and have you serve my every whim. After all, that's all you'll ever be good for."

"Please, just stop already. I hate this…"

"I don't give a FUCK, green skin. Hate me or not, I go on undeterred. And while you wallow in your pathetic misery, I'll keep leaving you behind. I've no time for anybody who refuses to spend any time of every day working towards everything they wanted, deserved, or felt due to them."

The green alien could only stammer as Mayfield squatted over, and got to slapping his face.

"But why do I bother… I speak to one who has no will, no heart, no head and no spine."

"Actually, I lack a spine. I'm supported by a system of fluid-filled bladders…"

"Shut your mouth! Now make a choice, squishy. Take everything that's yours now, starting today, or BE taken for everything you have. You wanna play the role you were meant to play, or the extra you KNOW you're not?"

Finishing the sentence, the barrage just continued; cutting words, constant strikes, personal insults and worse. 'Facts' that Zapp was the better hero over Kif, 'facts' that Captain Leela knew how much he was Brannigan's bitch, and 'facts' that Amy knew, even lamented, how far he had fallen.

As Mayfield left him there, squatting over his messed body, he spat aside and shook his head. Lots of green spatter over his glove and bare chest.

"Ah, what the hell's the use? Doubt you'll ever save Amy, or even save Earth, if you can't even save yourself…"

The kid stood to dust off and head back inside, but as he turned his back, that was the moment Kif began to get a particular set of eyes. Not pulsing out of anger, nor bereft from sadness, nor even shunned by embarrassment. Rather, they were bloodless, lifeless…

Kif struggled to his feet, wiping as much of himself off as he could, before he called out and left the kid standing still.

"Hey, Mayfield… Catch."

A rather nasty looking towel from a nearby dumpster, but Mayfield got the message.

"A damn shame, but so be it. I'll call my client so she can clean you up."

A few seconds until Kif got face-to-face: "Save the number for the ambulance, and that towel for me."

Before the kid could even comprehend the words, Kif's head had cracked his own. For a creature without bones or muscles to speak of, it carried the force of an iron-gloved heavyweight, one to leave a good gash as Mayfield crashed to the ground.

Going "What the fuck?" as blood oozed from his forehead, Mayfield saw Kif just beckon him forward, no sign of any emotion. The combos that once left the green one sprawling, were now dodged with almost unnatural ease, before a combo of his own sent Mayfield off his feet and into the bins.

Kif then stretched his arms to pepper him full of outside strikes, where even for sacrificing power they still stung like hammers. Fast running out of ideas, Mayfield grabbed a bin lid in desperation, attempts to defend himself before charging forward, hoping to bash his face in.

Following the Fourth Lieutenant's simple efforts to side-step and slap him about more, Mayfield threatened to call the police. Kif, far from standing down, had refused to let up.

"You're welcome to try, but who will they believe between you and me?"

For all the numbers he slapped, Mayfield never saw Kif scale the brick walls, leaving him alone and confused. Didn't have any idea, until he looked up to find a flying boot crashing into the middle of his face.

Even for Mayfield throwing in the towel, the entire decade of pent-up rage had flooded too far to be contained. By the time Kif took some deep, shaking breaths to try and calm down, he'd left Mayfield sobbing amid a laundry list of injuries; a broken, bleeding face chief among them. Such focus given towards grievous harm, that Kif had never seen Amy sneak out and witness the fight first-hand.

That's what he didn't know; far from dialling the police, Mayfield had placed repeated calls to Amy's phone. What he was finding out now, was his girlfriend seeing his new side, feeling her lust go into overdrive.

"Whoa, Kiffy… Since when were you such a fighter?"

"Oh jeez, you SAW that? I-I-I don't know what that was, I just saw Zapp in front of me. My mind just snapped, everything just burst forth…" He stared over at her 'guard', palm over his mouth. "What have I done?"

Amy had the half-bitten lips again. "You've proven a great deal manlier than I've EVER seen from you, that's what you've done Mr. Kroker… How 'bout some coffee, perhaps from my special kettle?"

"Well I guess a hot drink wouldn't, oh… Oh my."

As the exact meaning dawned over him, his face began to crack into an ear-splitting grin. Satisfaction for winning the fight aside, he could've exploded in joy as Amy wrapped him arm-in-arm, and made for her hoversine. On behalf of her grabby 'guard', Amy called the ambulance, thinking Mayfield had been marinated and pasted enough already.

As she arrived home in her General's arms, as they shut everything and giggled beneath sheets, she knew that their plan, despite the screw-ups, surprise improv and nasty ass-whooping, had actually worked. Her and Thomas' parts were over, now there was only Bender's heist and Leela's dinner date to secure that required promotion.

A promotion that, against any conceivable logic after years of disasters, would face heavy opposition in the form of Zapp Brannigan.


	42. A General Blasting (6E)

**Chapter 43:**

 **A General Blasting**

* * *

Since their official walkout to save the world, and of course her call to General Zapp, Leela had dedicated every waking hour to trying to settle her gut cramps; TV re-reruns, rigorous exercise, reading, or really any other humdrum activity.

Nothing seemed to help, and further hurting matters was the General's redial; a request to have her aboard the Nimbus. Where the warty toad would royally brag of a rendezvous both 'private' and 'satisfying.'

A moment that smelt rather off; when Amy revealed her excitement to date Kif again, Leela thought it no coincidence that, after years of ever-flimsy rejections, Zapp had awarded that R&R to his Fourth Lieutenant. Thoughts of being alone with the General she'd sooner file a protective order against, had pounded dents inside her chest.

"Just what the hell is Zapp playing at?" she'd often say, and never quietly.

Around quarter past five on the day, fresh off his French message to expect him within the hour, she almost wrung her ponytail off her head, in her fevered pacing about the apartment. Knew she couldn't turn back, as she soon ripped open old scars by looking about the wardrobe.

Four outfits of many; a purple keyhole look, for the operatic tribute Fry wrote in her name; a green cocktail affair, for that ruined maiden voyage of the Space Titanic; a light yellow dress with hair picks, for Harold Zoid's first premiere in decades; finally, her scarlet red number from the gala, where she sat mere feet from her worst—and now ongoing—tormentor.

All part of the adventures, memories and moments that defined her Captaincy, and life, thus far.

Trying to ignore them all, she instead seized an admiral-blue keyhole design, featuring a small tail of sorts. A look to match her eye and high heels, one of great promise as she did the usuals and locked up.

Looming winds soon cut through flesh and bone, as a space flyer whooshed down and landed. Using one hand to rub a leg and the other to hold a pocketbook, there sat the smug visage of General Zapp, dressed in full white military outfit & regalia.

"Hello, Leela, this is Zapp, Leela, it's so nice that I'm back where I belong… I've a laser pistol in my pocket, and it's happy to see you."

"Good evening General." A turn of face for his pick-up attempts. _"Oh dear God…"_

Zapp didn't even wait for her to clamber in before he began to get handsy, before he faked an entire yawn to sidle close and slip his arm over her shoulder. Seeing those slanted piggy eyes, Leela saw through that guise of body warmth, knowing she couldn't do much of anything.

Perhaps just as well she forgot her cream at home; Zapp might not've left her apartment otherwise…

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

As Bender hired his own craft to cause 'mayhem' around that grand grey shark, shooting tiny lasers and scaring those sleeping officers, Zapp had given the order to detain him. For all intents and purposes, the sabotage was now afoot…

Hadn't taken too long for the robot to lure a Private to his holding cell, to strip him of his uniform and keys before shutting out his lights. Loosening the steam valve to obscure his deeds, it was off to the Lovenasium.

The General's private quarters, made quite sensual for the occasion to come.

By the time Zapp scanned his kissy lips to certify entry, imagining shivers of lust as opposed to squirms of loathing, Leela began to remember his conquest of her, the accidental fling to create their whole doomed mess. Then and ever since, he was nothing she'd ever like, and it wasn't as if he did himself any favours.

"Leela, Leela, Leela… Sure sweetens some memories to be back in here together. Naturally, of how this courageous Captain conquered the lover's game and cuddled you right up. Kudos, to being my worthiest candy date; can't say I envy such privilege. Mmmm, candy…"

Her look to set those unlit candles ablaze, as his eyes ripped through that keyhole. His eyebrows would tango as he gave himself a slow rub, while she felt some dozen bandits invade her stomach…

"Say, I've been quite rude! I did offer dancing lessons at that fancy gala, how 'bout a free waltz?"

"Uh Zapp, how 'bout we set the mood instead? You know, a nice meal and a little music?"

"Uh-huh."

"I get that you're eager, but being hungry or unseduced doesn't make me a great lover… _Or involving you, anything really."_

"Of course, I'll alert the chefs at once… Could your fiancé boast the same about his TV dinners?"

"For me, it's less about what's on offer, and more the company you keep."

Zapp had a hearty chuckle while he poured them two glasses of wine, the scent of strong plonk crinkling Leela's nose.

"The finest joke I've heard! Leela, you of all women should understand that ladies don't want cheap, hopeless bums to come after them… they're after men of action, of amazement, of arousal! And you know I fit them as smooth as this velour."

"A few wrinkles in such thoughts, after all, your actions just arouse my amazement." A small giggle to herself. "Matter of fact, if you could help satisfy this curiosity of mine…"

"What's on your mind, my bodacious big-eyed babe?"

"How have you been able to sleep at night? Not discounting Chapek-9, don't those years and millions of graves haunt your dreams at all, inspire you to become a better, or Lords forbid, competent General?"

"That's my little secret, sweet princess. Each morning I weigh myself—still 199 by the way—before I just stare in the mirror and dazzle myself. It's there I remember, always & forever… Since I am me, they are not me, and me's greater than they, only my command matters to my men. We either solve or destroy our problems, or we run out of men."

"Look, I'll pay credit that you've done SOME noteworthy things, but aside from your personal body counts, what do you have to show for the rest of your 'brave-ay-dough?' You pad your record against bouncing balls, retirees, pacifists and defenceless creatures, and expect to be taken seriously? How, when you're a genocidal child who never should've made reserves, let alone become top brass?"

"And yet they're still my victories. Appreciate them or don't, that doesn't change such facts. Besides, what would a delivery woman understand of a male General's brilliance?"

"What you call brilliance, virtually everyone else on-board calls the opposite. I can't stress enough; against merely ADEQUATE forces, your Army's a bunch of flies getting high off bug spray. Hell, it's a miracle we haven't lost Earth at this point… Help me understand, however did you climb so high?"

"See my lovely Leela,"—he swirled his glass and grinned—"that's what I mean by brilliance. You pretend that hard work, merits and results get you places, while I learned lessons on sleazing 'round, sucking up, stealing credit and saddling my failures. Where did that get us again? You're the winning Captain of a losing delivery company, while I lead Earth's mightiest and loyalest forces."

He'd taste & swallow, return a smirk, and then raised his glass: "Ahhh, vintage wine. So tell me Captain, for I'm curious myself… Who shall the people respect more, when it's all over?"

A punch in the guts she didn't expect; Leela felt steam whistle through her nose as he topped up his glass. Had remembered as a fresh Captain how she sought his help, his reputation the only thing to go from…

But that fury of knowing the real man had her widen her eye, form a confident smile at her lips. She took in a deep breath, stood up, and loosened her neck & shoulders, circling laps around the table.

"So that's all I was to you, some damsel you could 'rescue' from the dirt?"

"I sure wouldn't say that, but I'd be thinking it out loud."

"Well, since we're being honest… You're right Zapp, you're absolutely right. By virtue of just name & title, this universe will remember you more than me. But do you believe remembrance means instant respect? Do you think you'd be comfortable about whoever sees you off, when it's over? Maybe for your sake, you need a little… re-education."

"Oh boy, learning… What a way to kill the Captain's Zapper."

"This woman you so desire was once a little girl who had nothing. As a baby, I was dumped off at Cookieville, living among animals who'd kill over a cardboard box. Even before the day I walked, those monsters took every chance in making my life an inescapable hell."

"And I'm supposed to care because—"

"Watch your mouth, General. Every excursion we could afford, if any, I always wished to live like those clean, independent, successful & capable citizens of New New York. Never did achieve it back then, but between odd jobs, I knew I would build the work ethic to achieve that dream. A decade of sixteen-hour days later, I would achieve things far beyond anything I could ever believe."

"Uh-huh, mm-hmm, uh-huh…"

"Oh I'm sorry General, was I not talking about you?"

"Well, that's one reason. Do me a courtesy and speed it up, would ya?"

"Then I'll sum up like this… From my hard work, I became a beacon of hope for an entire generation of orphans, perhaps for every citizen in this city & beyond. Solely for what I achieved and who I was, I scored the dream job and gathered the greatest group of friends and crewmen anyone could want. And the results? I grabbed that apartment to rise from pitiful orphan to worthy citizen, and—"

"Yes, yes. Basking in the warm glow of mediocrity, got it. Here I come to save the day!"

"I didn't need YOU to stamp my mark on this world. But speaking of you, my so-called hero…"

She soon sat down, rested her palms on the table, and stared the General down.

"Funny word you use, mediocrity. That's not the word I'd use for you, to imply you were ordinary yet passable, thus far… You're the General of our Army, Captain of this mighty vessel, and none can deny that. But besides the President you sucked up to, or forced to accept you, who else do you think has your back?"

Zapp got an attack of sweats: "Why, I have my own men of course! Always have, always will."

"If you believe that, I pity you. Let's begin by talking about your men…"

Smile grew malevolent, as she began to sense a lot more than new wine in his glass…

"Let me bank your reality check, right now. You proclaim they've got 'undying loyalty' for you, but they'd sooner march you out in disgrace, maybe right out the airlock. From their every fibre & nerve, they despise you, why? Because you give nothing to deserve such trust and respect. You have their brothers in arms die, for your own selfish purposes, and even while their bodies are warm, you smear their good names to anyone who'd listen.

"You speak lies woman, and I advise that you should stop right now!"

"Remember Chapek-9, remember risking my crew's lives, remember admitting to my fiancé's proxy murder? When your men witnessed me paste pieces of you all over your bridge, do you have any idea what they did?"

A good laugh before she refocused, ready to let loose again.

"They bent and bowed before me, as I became a goddess to them! Now, if you were just 'passable', you think I wouldn't have been arrested, perhaps even gunned down?"

Those shifts now grew a major deal agitated, as Leela rubbed her hands together. To think she was just getting warmed up.

"Of all the people to slander my magnificent name, it had to be—"

"Magnificent? Shall I go ask your 'loyal friend' next time I see him? Oh wait, I remember! He's the one I had to physically force off my ship, just to AVOID working under you. From the rumours I've heard regarding why, oof, I sure can't blame him. Even putting our personal history aside, Lord you make me sick."

From smug to repugnant, Zapp's face turned redder than his wine.

"You know, I heard stories that some guy took pages out of your playbook against him. Enforced their will, stole his girl, humiliated him, tried to hurt him… You know what happened? Kif took only minutes to leave him as a bloody mess, sobbing in some alleyway. You think he'd express such vicious contempt, if you were just 'ordinary', hmm?"

Zapp raised himself from his seat, on the defensive and looming over Leela: "So what's your point? In my army, you either pledge your loyalty or you get in line! Whoever doesn't, one way or another, I'll force them!"

"Oh, my point's one of just simple comparison. Before you sits a lady who had to earn everything, even respect, starting from scratch. That included being an inspiration—to my crew, to the children, to the citizens and especially to your comrades. Meanwhile, for all YOU'VE been handed, you'd be lucky if your own men didn't bury you in an unmarked grave, dropping pants over your corpse for good measure."

She dusted off her hands, satisfied for silencing Zapp: "So frankly, I think I'd rather enjoy my 'warm glows' over your hot shit. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go powder up."

As she bit her tongue hard in disappearing, Zapp had let every last one of those words sink in. A silent yet shaking grip of rage upon the table, the betrayal of his beloved stabbing him straight through the heart.

 _"Who is she to question 'Brannigan's Law'? It got me where I am, it sent her my way, it brought us together… How could she not understand?"_

But soon the salt twinkled in his eyes, his nose began to leak as anger turned to sadness. Those lips would turn cold, his throat had formed lumps, as his fear started to manifest. A stare to the bottle he hoped to share, until a realisation of his entire career had him seize and gulp down the lot. Stood himself tall for a few seconds, before he stumbled and banged his nose into the carpet.

 _"Oh, God, why? This isn't the way a hero's meant to go! Where's my guard of honour? The mourning crowd? The fancy jets, the 21-laser salutes?"_

Oblivious to it all, Bender had arrived at the Captain's Quarters after some uncomfortable directions, soldiers still picturing him as a Chapek-9 agent. After a couple of knocks, it surprised him to be 'greeted' by a swooning, VERY sullen superior.

"Personal delivery for—"

Without caring to wait, Zapp ripped the bottle from Bender's 40% iron grip, popped the top and sculled every last drop. An entire fifth treated like lolly water, as already heavy lurches grew worse. And if he looked sick before…

"Ohhh myyy Gaaawwwd!"

"Slurprised to shee… me drink… your delibery Private?" Zapp boasted, before tumbling again. "Now leave, or be shlipped to dee brig!"

"Pardon me for caring, Sir, but you need to get to the Med-Bay, now!"

Zapp scrabbled for his console, gripped doorframes for grim death before Bender helped him to stand. The belligerent General had slapped those hands away, and slammed Bender to the wall.

"You… you deny my die-wreck ore-duh? Should shend you out in dish-graesh for tha'! Lass chance."

"Uh, yes sir. I'll just be on standby."

Happy to have lost time for her lie of powdering, Leela was surprised to hear her communicator go off, more so for the sound of falling bricks.

"Bender, if you're so worried that I can't handle that dumb ape…"

"Leela, you know how little of a rat's ass I give about anything. But even I know a serious disaster when I see one."

"Well, don't keep me waiting! You know I'd sooner knock out that creep than kiss him."

"Zapp just drank my entire delivery, and from his wine breath, even I felt like I'd powered up."

Dead, shaken silence for some time: "Please tell me that's just a cruel joke of yours."

"I wish to Mom it was… And even better, the fleshbag's refused treatment and gone into lockdown."

Out the adjacent bathroom and into the Lovenasium, Leela gasped to find Zapp in an absolute state. Sways and falls, thudding his head over shag carpets before working to his feet. Cheeks wet & dripping, as he smashed plates and broke their candle in half. Roars of anguish, as he seized and tossed their chairs about. One at his display of champagne glasses, the other at a window…

Thank heavens only the former shattered, that the candle wasn't lit either.

As Zapp continued to condemn his quarters, Leela snuck about to grab those empty bottles. _"Trust him to buy cheap wine"_ , she thought, but what worried her more was what Bender had brought in.

Rolling out the mystery label that Bender had dismissed, she sunk against the Lovenasium entrance, horrified and rigged to explode.

Turned out to be a more commercial variety of whiskey, a drop several orders cheaper than anything her senator would have sully his basement. For its chocolate taste and malty finish, a rather delectable find she hadn't seen much of in recent days.

But at 90-proof, nothing that Zapp couldn't handle under normal circumstances, she saw her plans start to crumble apart.

"Bender, you stupid sack of screws! This was the MalteseERS Liquor, not Maltese!"

"So that's why our senator allowed my getaway… That dirty, double-gilded bastard!"

"Don't you dare blame anyone else! I'll call you back, gotta make sure that drunken dolt doesn't KILL us all."

Tried looking about for a hiding place, as Zapp began his wretched gait towards her voice. In between slurred calls for sex, and an awful karaoke butchering of a Kinks' classic, it wasn't long before he had her in his arms, squeezing tight.

"C'mere and gimme a real big kiss!"

Leela wormed her way out and ran again, dreading what the unloved, oversexed and uninhibited General could do next. Wishing to avoid any charges or investigations, she beelined for the door, trying to force it open. Place was sealed shut, and she had no means to get through the walls.

But then came the sound that both gave her ideas, and a heart attack in waiting. The discharge of laser fire; Zapp had begun to blast about his quarters, destroying Ionic columns, his own portrait, and even one of his many statues, scattering stone like shrapnel all over the area.

Russian Roulette in space; any errant shot into those windows, or into that portrait hole again…

"ZAPP! What in the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm celebwating our con-sum-ation, my cute widdle cycwops. Now let's shut up and get wost on my vewour covers."

"And you want a nice decompression, maybe a side of getting sucked out? 'Cause that's what's on order unless you put the damn gun down!"

"Spare me your techno-babble and get on my saddle, wovewy."

He then shot backwards and nailed a window frame. An inch short of a glass puddle, and a world of deep trouble.

Declaring that their date was off, Leela got close and thumbed his eyes, enough to grab his pistol and hide it away. Assured that she'd saved them both, she grabbed some tap water to help clear his mind; though he cooperated at first, it was as Leela led him out that he pulled her into a surprise grab.

None too thrilled, as he dragged her towards the bed: "Zapp, cut it out! You're in danger of dying here."

"And what better way to go out on top, than over the gweatest General?"

The embrace grew tighter and tighter, enough to leave Leela squirming and trying to suck air into her lungs. If her lights went out… Tried to ignore the thought as Zapp's breath rankled her skin, as his grip got even

d

 _"Oh forget this crap… Let them investigate me, I'm not getting into Zapp's bed again!"_

In further struggles & squirms, she worked enough momentum to lean forward and whip the back of her head into Zapp's nose, weakened enough to break and draw blood. As he reeled back and yelled, she slipped out and readied herself.

Rejection cutting through his bones again, that most blotchy General could only scream and huff to the dinner table, before turning his wine bottle into a brandished mess of jagged edges.

"If I'm not allowed to have you Leela, then by Brannigan's Law, NO-ONE can either!"

He charged forward ready to scar her, she took just moments to dodge the attack and disarm the General. A leg sweep to trip him and sit him down, and a sudden move to seize his neck and choke out his carotid artery.

In the early going, her crossed ankles and initial confusion would've allowed anyone else an easy escape, if not a chance to break her ankles. But for that drunk, dull-headed deserter of sorts, all he could do was fall on his back.

No worse mistake to make, for it allowed Leela to grapevine, reassess the situation, and apply the proper technique to put his lights out. After rolling him to his side, knowing she faced a sleeping ogre in waiting, she scurried back to where she hid his laser.

Grateful for being good & sober, she blasted a big hole into the wall, planted the gun in Zapp's hands, and made her way to the dock. Found her knees begin to give way, forcing a grabbed wall to sink against. To think it'd be sarcastic intros to play a part in saving her life…

When Bender found her head planted in her arms, even he knew he could put two and two together. As he sat down aside and allowed her his shoulder, he realised that Zapp had crossed the line that perhaps even he would've thought twice over.

The two would soon stand, make for the docking bay and request a return trip, only silent stares out the window to pass the time.

 _"Should've been so obvious why he sent Kif away, why he wanted a 'private date…' No reliable witnesses to record such actions."_

And as Leela thought about it more, the games and manipulations grew to make sense. The hell would he care about consent? He had murdered and sacrificed millions—with absolute impunity—for years. She always thought 'Brannigan's Law' to be a joke, but right now, she realised he had always been a sinister law unto himself.

Worse thoughts were to surface as she returned home and to bed. Bender's 'efforts' had compromised everything; though he might've nursed a nasty hangover, and later an involuntary spew or two, Zapp was guaranteed to remain General for the big war to come.

And for his forced attempts on her, her worries of telling her friends, and losing the universe she fought to win back, she knew she was going to suffer her share of sleepless nights…


	43. Doormats No More (6E)

**Chapter 44:**

 **Doormats No More**

* * *

As the late Friday edition of Root 2 News blared on her TV screen, Amy and Kif were snuggled in tight, talking of the 'cologne plague' that had been sweeping the city. The head of Koop on screen, advising citizens to stay indoors as word of dozens and hundreds of blackened monsters popped up around the streets.

Here at her apartment, it used to be that Kif would just dread of his return, while Amy would wring her hands and swear towards his constant moods. Who'd have thought a back-alley fight would help him appreciate this here & now…

"You know Amy, that night I taught that jerk a lesson, I remembered how it felt to be a man again! I spoke up against him, my hands have bruise-like colourings, I-I even made better love than I ever thought possible!"

A finger down his chest: "I'll say, stud. For a moment, I thought I stumbled across a handsome shapeshifter instead…"

"You probably did to tell the truth. Looked, felt and talked like me, but for years, wasn't sure it WAS me."

Having a passionate kiss as they continued to count heartbeats, Amy soon heard the doorbell ring. Getting up to find her casual yet banged-up co-worker, she slapped him across the lips before a word came out.

"Owww! Geez, good evening to you too! Though I guess that was for the dress, right?"

"I'll thank you to warn me next time, Thomas! Forget the dress, the hassle was smoothing things over with those diners. Had to bribe quite a few to look elsewhere."

"Wait, what? _Ugh, nothing makes_ … Look, I came to apologise. Was disgraceful of me to do that, and I should've been better."

"Worked out for the best, so just forget it, okay? Come on in."

Their handshake settling matters, Mayfield entered to find Kif, and he couldn't even raise a finger before the green one lunged for him, choking the air from his brain.

"You didn't learn your lesson from last time, Mayfield? Back away from my girlfriend!"

 _"I did, I did, just here to say sorry! Wanted to clear the air!"_

"You'll do better to leave right now… Last chance, you filthy worm!"

 _"Dammit Amy, didn't you tell 'em?"_

"Sorry Thomas, but he had insisted on defending my honour since that date… Tell the truth, it does turn me on a little."

 _"Oh for shit's sake… Listen squishy, just a job, a role to play!"_ Had phlegm choke up his throat. _"Let me go, and you'll know everything!"_

Released and gasping for air, he rose from his back to take a deep breath, staring up at Kif.

"Listen Mr. Kroker, much as it doesn't look the case, Amy and I are fellow crewmates. We cooked that scheme up, every last bit to a tee. Well almost, the dress was a desperate move to sucker you in. I just wanted to come around and apologise for such actions, for everything that night."

"So hold up… All those words, those games and your violence… They were all just a RUSE?!"

"If you say so; way I saw it, I thought I'd make a better outlet to work yourself off. I mean, if you did to your Captain what you did to me… I shudder to think how he'd retaliate."

"Let's hope you never find out… One question though, you didn't throw that fight did you?"

"Still not sure of yourself? Your eyes, sir… I'd be lying to say they didn't put the fear of Gods in me. From what you were to what you became, you were not the wimp I heard you were."

"Won't lie, that fight scared me too. I should apologise as well, I never meant to take your beating so far."

"Ah don't sweat it, huh? I've copped worse from worse sorts, and I'm still here."

"Just that, when you've endured his schemes, 'strategies' sorry excuses and orders of silence for so long, where do you find the words? Where do the sighs begin, and violent thoughts end?"

"To think I bitched about suffering… Whatever could one do to deserve a fate like yours?"

"What indeed? I've written the same question every day in my diary, with his latest screw-up, since he became General. Must've filled dozens of those books by now."

"However you kept it together for that long, I must say that's impressive. Ever since our first chat, I've wanted to rip that fucker's spine out. Couple of months my end, and you've had what, ten years? To think earning his ire was as simple as being Leela's fake fiancé…"

"Do you see the hookworms in my face, Mayfield?" Kif asked. "That's from ten years of senseless orders, cleaning up his messes, and trying to explain his universal conduct. And as for how he 'rewards' me, I've lost count of how many times I wanted to rid myself of him."

Amy had palms to her mouth, while Mayfield just bowed his head: "Chriost dean trocaire…"

"Conundrum of course was how could I, for making it so far? He'd smear my life's work in an instant, and even your Captain kicked me out despite good standing. To know no other life, think of mooching off Amy… I'd sooner return home and die in my swamp, than experience such shame."

"Even for Zapp being in the commander's chair,"—Mayfield leaned closer—"what kept you going in spite of him?"

"As a tadpole on Amphibios-9, crawling on the Clan Kroker grounds, I was always a snack to the big, angry and deadly creatures who resided there. To save my entire autobiography, it naturally all evolved into serving and protecting Earth, which I did until Brannigan took over. Nowadays I destroy, subjugate and plunder, more than I promote peace and prosperity."

Amy moved to reassure him, while Mayfield further sank: "Forget using shovels, he's brought out the drill… I'm so sorry, mate."

"Oh please, don't be. Thanks to your risk-free confrontation, maybe I've got it in me to reassert myself. But if Zapp suspects that I'm turning my back on him, well—"

"Okay, time-out! Who the hell is he connected to? Surely they can't ignore his constant mistakes, can they?"

"President-for-Life Nixon's a dear friend of his, and our Order's President has her hands tied. And I sure wouldn't trust her; she had me punished at his lame, unproven urging, back when he destroyed their new HQ."

"Swear this is just some sick joke now… About time we get to the punchline."

There'd be another knock at the door, while everybody tried to process Kif's revelations. None other than Leela, rather withdrawn, who had hugged Amy and left her head on Mayfield's shoulder as he stood to stretch. Immediately, he knew the news wasn't going to be good.

"Oh crap… What happened?"

In short their operation had been blown, and the details for what Zapp had attempted had him gripping his face before clenching a fist. A horrible pang of guilt; kicked himself for not speaking up. Would've had no qualms using that cream to ensure success… Now defeat and Earth's death was a virtual guarantee.

"Well, apart from the feeling that we're quite fucked, what other news do we have?"

Almost murmurs over words, until Amy piped in that Kif would do anything to oust Zapp from command. No Omicronian, Decapodian, nude scammer or anything else he knew had proven a more legitimate threat, and he had logged books full of evidence to back up that claim.

"Mr Kroker, Kif if I may?" Mayfield offered. "Listen, before and after my parents vanished almost 1000 years ago, I feared I had become like your Captain. I was either some top-shit fool who took everything and everyone for granted, or a moronic drunk who blamed anything else for his problems. Needless to say, coming here gave me a huge wake-up call."

"So you're just like Fry in that instance? I'd ask for more, but it's best we cut to the chase."

"Close enough. Point is, I've had to grow a much tougher skin, while Zapp just let himself coast. If you made handling me look so effortless, then The General can't touch you, and we need a proper commander now more than ever."

"Why, how do you mean?"

Once Leela composed herself, she revealed the situation ahead. As renewed foes of the 'cologne plague' perpetrator, the Planet Express crew had got a taste of those creatures on screen. Powerful, quick, obedient to a fault, and now thanks to an innocuous new fragrance, growing in steady numbers.

"Oh odds and bodkins, how would we ever fight against those? Explains Fry's absence at least, to think I took Zapp's word about him dying in some horrible space accident."

"My Fry's been his prototype since mid-last year; only recent proof of our lives have got him fighting the infection. This latest cologne seems the real deal though; one spray and, unless we make some cure, you're his super slave forever."

On cue, Mayfield pulled out a tube of Miracle Cream, placing it in Kif's hands.

"We've got enough of these to last us a few weeks; unfortunately, Zookeeper destroyed our production, robbed our means to create another, and to top it off, he really one-upped us with his own creation. That's why we need DOOP right now; it's an emergency that requires urgent attention."

Mayfield had just begun vouching for Kif's leadership when he heard a buzz on the green one's communicator. Answered to their subject of scorn himself; a head-to-toe mess of blood, mucus and vomit as a passing soldier sponged water over him. Some silent gasps and an "I rest my case" as Zapp shoved the man away, and stared bleary-eyed into the screen.

"Kif, return to the Nimbus at once, I'm calling in your R&R early. My quarters and I require a bathe, scrub down and complete wash, pronto!"

One side threatened to protest, sigh and serve once again, but upon subtle encouragements, Kif rolled his eyes and spoke up.

"Regrettably Captain, we have a brewing crisis on our hands, and I'm trying to collect the details. As such, I'm not available to help right now."

"You deny my direct order, you little toad? The only crisis YOU should worry about are the steaming chunks over my glorious velour gown! Now don't make me repeat myself… Return. At. Once."

"Unlike you, I'm in the middle of something important; saving Planet Earth for one. So all due respect Sir, go wash yourself, or get someone else."

Zapp shook his head: "I thought you knew better… As her hero, I'm more important than Earth. I'm in no good mood Kif, so unless you'd like to think long and hard about your career, I'd suggest—"

"Worse than what you've done already, Sir?" Kif soon betrayed those eyes again. "I know better than to call you Earth's hero, so I suggest you stand down unless you want my personal opinion."

"Interrupting AND ordering me around, my perfect friend? Pains me to witness such disloyalty… As 25-Star General of the DOOP Army, I hereby sentence you—"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH THIS INSTANT, YOU JACKASS SCUMBAG!"

The voice had shaken the windows and crew, not to mention The General.

"Kif, what is the meaning of this outburst?! So help me, I'll have you—"

"How 'bout I re-educate you, you fat jerk? Ever since we started working together, I've known nothing but needless wars, planetary genocides and incompetent negotiations under your command. I watched silent while you blamed soldiers for dying, good men who suffered for YOUR insane orders, your mistakes, and your choices. You've screwed DOOP over for years, and you have the cheek to accuse ME of disloyalty?!"

Railroaded by this anger, Zapp hoped to interrupt before Kif continued to steamroll him.

"And who the hell are you, calling yourself my 'perfect friend'? That Buggalo-dust 'Brannigan's Law' was just an excuse to enrich yourself off my back, make a slave of me, deny my proper R&R and starve me of rations without shame! A law unto yourself, stealing hundreds of thousands from my fund… You pathetic leech!"

Captain and crew were left flummoxed; the dying men were one thing, but they never knew the disgraceful extent of how Zapp treated his second-in-command.

"The fact I must follow our absolute greatest failure, it makes me sick to my stomach. In just ten years, you've only destroyed our centuries of diplomatic relations, nuked our reputation to dust, stopped our every chance to rebuild… I swear on mine and our men's honour, we will find an unmarked grave for you, because it's ALL you deserve!"

Zapp's face could've froze into a Munch masterpiece, pure fear for the potential future Leela had posed for him. But in place of promising change, he gave him what he thought was the evilest death glare anyone would ever see.

Kif, of course, didn't budge an inch: "Pout like a child all you like General, but maybe it's time you took some personal responsibility, became a big boy for once… 4th Lieutenant Kroker, out."

Once he hung up and blocked the number, Kif just flopped onto the couch, pressed his hands against his head, and just burst into fits of laughter. If it so happened that he cooked his career, then that flambéing display of venom was the best way to go…

 _"Hooooooo-ly shit…"_ Mayfield could only start slapping a knee in a rhythm for applause, as he gloved up and clapped Kif on the shoulder.

"Now watching that was a thing of beauty… So what do you think green skin? A golden moment to treasure, a heavy burden off your shoulders?"

Kif only hugged his knees: "That was the happiest moment of my life… No, this one is, or wait, maybe this one… Oh heck, they're all wonderful!"

The ladies felt shivers through their bones; one lustful, the other in eagerness. Leela could only stare at Amy and Mayfield, impressed for however they evolved Kif from the wuss she knew to a commander in waiting.

"Wherever did that come from? Regardless Lieutenant, that's been proof enough to trust you. Either get us ready to fight, or be ripped apart like coleslaw. Everyone else, handle your business now if you've got it, 'cause this battle's gonna kick our ass if we don't give it everything we've got."

They either stood or dusted themselves off, and Leela glanced about her crew, first at Mayfield.

"Thomas, to give us the means to get this far, I have no words for how much we appreciate your efforts. You've really stepped up since you first got here, and that's not something I say lightly."

A salute in response: "Swear on a stack of Bibles, it's been my honour and privilege Captain. And long may that blessed life continue, once this is all over."

"Captain, Mayfield, thank you for the true pleasure it's been working among you both. And as for my Kiffy? If we make it through this, I'll get the coffee pot boiling…"

"Oh my, what a new life I might lead… Anyway, on behalf of the Democratic Order of Planets, as Fourth Lieutenant of her Army, I promise I'll do everything in my power to protect Earth and her public. May we fight with their honour, and fight until the end."

The group put their hands in, before they went their separate ways. For right now, they just had to sit tight, keep a low profile, and avoid any encounters until forces could be mobilised. The crew had their homes to repair and reinforce, while Kif had the arduous task of gathering support.

No chance in hell that he'd convince Zapp, not after the spray he gave him. Glab's hands were virtually cuffed from her General's messes. Only one with any potential clout would be Nixon; as Zapp's best friend, he'd get the word on Kif's 'mean, unfair' words and just rip him apart without consideration. Maybe just disgrace him, if he were lucky.

Several months of nasty comeback tours, constant games, and serious escalations to this moment.

Now laid the battle of DOOP's mightiest forces and Planet Express, against the Zookeeper and his assured army of super-powered minions.

And the prize on the line? In one short and simple word… Everything.


	44. Changing of the Guard (6E)

**Chapter 45:**

 **Changing of the Guard**

* * *

Even for an entire army watching their asses, the Planet Express crew cut no corners in insuring their lives, spending enough to bleed whole countries dry in trying to repair and reinforce their homes & ship.

For October's last week, and the start of November as well, most days and nights were spent holed up in a derelict warehouse, abandoned mall or elsewhere. Not even a dare to soak up the little sunshine to be had. No shopping & meals, no dancefloor spins, no pub crawls, no games… Just a sit & wait, only desires of revenge and occasional supply drops to push them forward.

As for who they sought penance from, he could only froth for the 'Cologne Plague' bearing his name. Of all times his 'small strides, great leaps' philosophy had to be exposed… Still, for how long he had prepared for the war to come, he was confident that victory was guaranteed.

After all, helping him along was Brannigan.

The true top brass had to sweep his actions aside; always were worse messes to clean. But as reinstated General, the first thing Zapp did was advertise to all personnel, that there were 'vacancies' for the title of Fourth Lieutenant.

A 'redemption' against Kif's blasphemy, and on paper, quite the incentive for the serious appeal to power. The reality though was that even the slackest-jawed men in his command knew better than to accept.

Instead, in perhaps the truest camaraderie yet, they pretended to 'spread' a sickness. Symptoms of coughs, bitten tongues and pursed cries of "Yes, sir", as they shared the footage of Kif's lashing, soon leaving bridge to tail of the Nimbus erupting in howls of laughter.

No better being to speak what they always wished to wax, than the creature he declared his 'perfect friend.'

Kif's reputation would elevate from deepest sympathy to highest esteem, while Zapp soon realised that for all his bribes, orders & threats, he couldn't wrestle the narrative back into his control. A situation to leave him beyond riled, while the Fourth Lieutenant cared nothing for such news.

Between his date ending and right up to now, he'd been spending sixteen-hour days to compile the intelligence briefs, damage reports and research proposals for their required budget. Aboard the Nimbus, he'd turn red for Zapp often spilling or scattering his papers, trying to re-establish his dominance.

More so when, to the surprise of none, Kif couldn't get his Captain's authority to take this to the White House. Even for being offered equal credit, Zapp just denied his eyes & ears, held a hand to Kif's face, and spoke aloud that his 'perfect friend' was dead to him.

" _Oh thank you merciful God…_ Thank you Sir, for making me feel alive again." One could've sworn he almost did a jig, upon leaving bridge.

But of course, facing tens of billions who stood to die, Kif knew there was no point to a chain of command anymore. For as much about President Nixon as he had heard, surely he could appreciate that if Zapp was going to spend time causing problems, they'd together be the only men to perhaps solve them…

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Inside the historic comforts of the new White House, the head of President Nixon had been poring over the squares before him—another clue of many to mull over in his daily crossword.

"Let's see, once a nougat candy bar covered in chocolate, sold in several flavours…"

"Charleston Chew, sir?" a Secret Service head suggested.

"No thank you, I'm not hungry."

"I meant for the—"

"I said SHUT UP, DAMMIT!"

Pretended to take credit as he wrote the clue down, before his communicator paged him.

"Mr. President, there's a Kif Kroker here to see you? States he has a new proposal for our military budget?"

"Great, I've got to see that green shrimp-faced gremlin now? Whatever, send him in."

Between Nixon's frown and the burly-bodied agents eyeing every move, Kif stuttered forward, his thick dossier in hand. Took him ten years and a stranger's beating to condemn his Captain, but even for their better relationship by default, he hadn't a clue on how to convince the Commander-in-Chief.

Much bigger ball game; minor leagues to Galaxy Series playoffs. And right now, his first pitch…

"Mr. President, let me start by saying it humbles me for you to make some time. Concerning the immense stakes I believe we face, I didn't know who else I could turn to."

"Let me cut those dreams quick, little green man… Your Captain already called ahead, made it clear that you'd just waste my time giving some ridiculous proposal. You've got one chance to prove otherwise."

"Wait a minute, Zapp radioed ahead?!"

"And there it goes, I'll thank you for disrupting my crossword. Now make like me against Hubert Humphrey and beat it!"

"I'm sorry, who? Mr. President, I understand that a Captain's friendship means he'll taint your opinion of me, but I must insist that you listen."

"AROO, you scrubbed-up secretary, didn't you hear me the first time? If I wanted to save the world, I'd have called Zapp already. Whatever plans you have won't win me over, so for the last time,"—he began flapping his jowls—"Scccrrrrram!"

" _That duplicitous dingbat…_ All due respect, Sir, he can't even shine your head let alone lead our Army. Hasn't done that since I started under his command. Now I strongly suggest that, for our planet and your leadership, you listen."

"Oh-ho, ordering me around, shrimpy? For the same boy I've seen scrubbing his Captain's gizmo, that takes quite the spine to—"

"Actually, I lack a spine, I'm supported—"

"Interrupt me again, and I'll send you back to your swamp in a jar! So after all I've seen, you really believe I'll listen to you?"

"I'd rather you read my briefs first; after that, you can make a choice."

Kif slammed his work down over the crossword, crushing it in dozens of pages of intelligence. Every event and sighting of that exceptional threat, truly among the gravest of armed forces they'd known since DOOP's founding.

Nixon got just a paragraph in before he argued that those documents carried no official bearing, before spinning a twisted pride about his Army. That since his election they'd always pleased the planet and DOOP at large.

"For someone so high up the ranks, Kroker, your lack of faith is of quite a concern."

"Mr. President, we can't afford the time to go through our official procedures, and how could I have faith when we pad our records with the blood of pacifists & retirees? Innocent, defenceless beings? Against virtually ANY opposition, we've lost EVERY battle under Zapp's leadership. And you're going to sit there and express pride in that?"

"Not like I'd argue our results, gremlin. Victory over the Killbots, a trillion-dollar silk surplus, a slathering of new planets conquered, and an entire nebulae or two vanquished from the stars!"

"Spoken from a guy who's rarely been there, of course you can't argue! Yes, we stopped the Killbots, but his scheme of sacrifice cost us trillions where they shouldn't have. Yes, the silk surplus gave us a great economic boost, but he sent the lot up in smoke, almost us in ashes, from fighting over some guest's cigar!"

"So what if he makes expensive mistakes? You're saying he can't replace those?"

"Unless you'd like to enlighten me, Sir…"

Though the President had some thoughts circle his jar, he turned face and crossed arms instead.

"I didn't think so. He expanded our territory by conquering the likes of Spheron-1, but they've all been devoid of strategic value or resources. He's slaughtered countless races, without bothering to ask questions about creating allies. It's high time you understood, Sir, that Zapp's always been a dangerous liability to our Army."

"I have heard enough! Agents, escort this green menace out at once."

"Escort me at the risk of your oath, Mr. President!"

"Well, intergalactic security was part of my oath… Was I under oath when I took it?"

Even through that green liquid, Kif saw Nixon sweat a little, and that's when he saw his chance.

"That'll be the least of your problems, Sir. In our critical hours now, the world will ask many questions, and I know what you'll answer for. Why did you advocate a military leader who does nothing, boasts conquests worth less than nothing, and yet has killed more men than COMBINED generations of DOOP commanders before him?"

Nixon's head stuttered for an answer, still stung by his 'oath', but was cut off.

"Why did you advocate a military leader who has cost us everything to date, from well-earned reputations to our diplomatic clout? Centuries of hard-won intergalactic relations, of careful negotiations, of trust and good faith… Now just rubble, and only the dust to show for it."

Kif could feel those eyes again, as Nixon's forehead salted further. Was allowed to resign from his last Presidency over a thousand years ago, wasn't sure they'd allow the same this time.

"Why have you advocated a military leader whose countless needs to pick fights, whose corpses of innocent millions lie at his feet, condemn the very vision and mission of our Democratic Order? A man who demands undying loyalty from everyone under him, yet smears their names the minute they predictably do so?"

"Now wait a minute, jelly-head, I was about to—"

"And all in just ten hopeless years. I've begged the question since we worked together, so answer me, Mr. President... What other excuse could you possibly allow to let him continue such a legacy? One that shall lie on your shoulders as well?"

Still stumbling for answers, Nixon glowed redder than rubies even against the hue of his preserving liquid. All he did do eventually was slam his extendable limbs on the desk, while Kif could only pinch his nose.

"Who are you to question your superiors, you Commie bastard? You've just made my list—Zapp will remain General, you'll get these birdcage-lining documents off my desk, and for such disobedience, I shall have you court-martialled, by God! Agents, escort him out, and don't be afraid to put him in line either."

"LET me have my day in court, if you're so confident!" Kif glared as he felt his arms bound. Don't you get it, Nixon? There'll be no commanders, courts, cities or countries to condemn me, PERIOD, unless you listen to me."

The agents were almost to the door when the headless clone of Agnew—Nixon's VP—burst right through, his arms in flails and voice in panicked growls.

"What is it, Agnew? We've run out of Charleston Chew?"

In frustrated groans, the monster clicked the remote and jerked towards the TV. Wall-to-wall coverage of super-soldiers in the dozens or hundreds; outright murdering civilians in broad daylight. Footage of a fully-clad Zookeeper, aired in between, who demanded an unobtainable amount of ransom money.

"AROOOOO, what in the crazy Commie hell are those?!"

"Do I have your attention now, President? Those documents I gave highlight everything about those fighters, their leader, and the way they came to be. From all the intel, I've every reason to believe that he's been forming a massive force, one to execute universal—not just Earth's—domination."

"I had no idea just how serious—"

"For how low my opinion of him stands, you think I'd have gone over Zapp's head in any other situation? Ever since I cleared the air he's become a bratty child, and so he's useless! Flap your jowls at me all you wish, but understand that our lives and your reign will be cut short if we don't act. So, I'll say it again, do I have your attention now?"

"Just tell me what you need, Lieutenant Kroker, and I'll sign the check immediately."

After that, the proposal was done and dusted inside the hour. Once Kif got the restraints taken off, he only requested funds to get them on equal ground, estimated in the realm of 11 figures. Showed Nixon the Miracle Cream, and made clear that such resources could create the means to counter Zookeeper's power advantage. Would've assured DOOP's personal funding, had it not been for Zapp's expensive messes.

Before long, a presidentially-sealed check of some $100 billion was in Kif's hand: "But this damn well better work, it's all we can afford!"

"Thank you Mr. President, I won't forget the help you've given our world today."

A bow of his head before Nixon waved him off, and it wasn't too long before Kif cashed that check and got straight to work…

 _"Time to play the role I was meant to play."_

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Even for getting over his 'Maltesers' meltdown better than expected, Nixon had called Zapp personally to take a mandatory R&R, for new concerns had arose of recent behaviour. The real reasons were classified; Zapp hadn't a qualm letting Nixon know of his disdain.

Disdain to furious contempt, once he learned while that Kif, upon docking his flyer, was taking the reins.

"I'm the hero, dammit! Kif's a complete disaster waiting to happen!" Course, might've pitched his Big Book of War to the Gandhi Nebula, for all the good it did.

The go-ahead was approved, and Kif relayed his orders from orbit. The matter of Miracle Creams, first & foremost. For Bender's only friend left unscrewed, Dr. Beeler sprang into salute and got to work. Inside a couple of days, Leela had enough to sneak out under cover of work so she could send those crates express to the Nimbus.

Second, using that crate of miracles. After much discussion, priority had been placed on the Nimbus's training grounds & labs; build them quick to invent that counter weapon before war would be declared.

Third, the brainpower they'd require to complete this project. Luckily, for inflating their checks enough, they had signed not just the entire Academy of Inventors symposium, but also the Globetrotter people to help as well.

Ankle-breakers on the court, boundary-breakers in knowledge with any chance they got.

It'd be mid-November when DOOP would distribute among their men a glowing gold serum, and watch as they tossed vehicles, demolished brick walls and stood ground against hurricane winds.

Seeing those fantastic feats and more, all achieved in comfortable ease, Kif could only sport a proud grin before he relayed further orders to pick up the Planet Express crew. When they got to see for themselves, they could only clutch knees for the relief over their shoulders.

Leela soon led the applause, and clapped Kif's back: "All this inside a week or so? Gotta say Kif, you'll be a General in no time for this impressive work."

Kif was all for giving his small bows, continued pep talks and further training, until a voice broke out to stop him ice-cold.

"Especially mine. To turn our soldiers into supermen from just my subconscious… Not sure how this magnificent bastard did so, but that's why I'm the best Captain to grace DOOP's halls."

Defying his R&R order, and posing in his wrinkled red uniform, stood only the erect and proud Zapp Brannigan. Kif could only roll his eyes, the soldiers began staring daggers, the crew aired their protests, and Mayfield broke out into a mocking sing-song.

"Oh great, here he comes to save the day! Listen Captain Craven, we've been doing just fine without you, so make like your boozed-up bladder and PISS off."

"Correction, smart-mouth, I'm your General. And you all need one to lead you losers, none better than the greatest of all to do so. One who has only the undying loyalty of his men… Right, men?"

To his flashy smile and thumbs-up, only a graveyard silence, before a lone "Go to hell, dick!" broke out.

"Oh yeah, you sure have loyalty in spades friend. For sweet Christ's sake, get your delusions seen to!"

"Intend to or don't, express it or won't, force them or not, my men shall live and die by my code of loyalty. And I shall not have some big-mouthed scheming mutineer try to displace all that."

A hand behind his back in a reach for something, but whatever was planned had been nulled by a loud red alert. Private rushing headlong out of the bridge, struggling to catch their breath.

"Captain, we're getting overwhelmed with civilian casualty reports, and the Zookeeper has declared WAR!

Everyone could only sprint for the bridge, hopeful that it'd be the only battle to worry about.


	45. The Plan All Along (6E)

**Chapter 46:**

 **The Plan All Along…**

* * *

As he eyed that thief of love and blasted off for the blue planet, one could've sworn to seeing skulls and crossbones flash in Zapp's pupils. But for the high-stakes battle about to get underway, duty had to call.

"Since I've a victory dance to practice, scumbag, I'll leave you be. You go await further orders at the training grounds; as for the rest of you, I insist you remain here to watch a master at work."

"Though surprised that I'm not, I distinctly recall being 'dead' to you, Captain. As such, I'm off to the grounds; initial numbers are low and we'll need all hands to boost them."

"Kif, earn my ultimate contempt again, and you might go home in a glass jar. Now must you insist on defying me any further?"

"Oh yes, for I dare you to kill me, Sir. Would give you five minutes after the funeral, before you crawl back on bent knee."

Zapp had of course ignored such warnings, but not when Kif suddenly rose his voice and grabbed Planet Express's attention.

"Captain Leela, my apologies to draft your crew as civilian volunteers, but can I rely on you and them to train up our new troops? At least if Zapp doesn't listen, I can count on you to do so."

"Yes, Lieutenant Kif, sir!" she saluted, before she commanded the rest to follow.

The General could only growl for being overridden, for being left alone with Kif… The fit of flying rage to follow would almost drive him right off course.

Upon arrival and on paper, The Zookeeper held an overwhelming advantage over DOOP; thousands to their hundreds as they all gathered on the shores of Monument Beach. The reality though was they were still scared civilians stumbling about, a clumsy and confused herd in chaotic times, unable to follow orders.

All things made more equal, the DOOP soldiers had knocked down such minions without even a sweat; much to Zookeeper's growing ship dents. An advantage gained that Zapp's men didn't receive very often; perhaps why he felt a finger-snap quiver inside his guts, eager to stamp his name all over this crowning to be.

For seeing him rub those chins, for hearing him yammer on about 'crucial strategies' and 'inspiration', Kif could only sigh for the declaration to come.

"Men, on my mark, prepare to play dead! Observing that they are animalistic in nature, my flawless logic dictates that they'll leave us alone and venture elsewhere once we do so."

"Sir, I don't believe that's wise. For starters—"

"Kif, apart from being 'dead', you know my thoughts on your 'I-don't-think-that's-wise' attitude. Now lie still and be quiet, while I polish my Earthican Medal of Honour…"

"Stop being such a child, Zapp… To hell with your ancient cartoons and the wise-ass wabbits they rode in on! Animalistic though they are, those civilians are still under ORDERS."

"Kif, Kif, Kif… You think you're ever going to be General when you always sweat the small details, when you never see the big picture? Just watch… Men, play dead, now!"

Such a spontaneous chance to 'nap' had confused those troops, but following nothing further, the dozens then hundreds began to lie down in unison. A strategy to narrow The Zookeeper's eyes, have him scratch his head, and then give a wicked grin in realising what he had.

 _"Fresh bodies for me? Oh, you shouldn't have…_ Soldiers, to those wanting to die like insects, oblige them. Crush them under your boots!"

As umpteenth-generation rioters, street thugs and other survivalist sorts, the civilians turned soldiers had it leagues easier in curb-stomping those civil officers, now clueless to the fate about to befall them.

As Zookeeper grabbed back his advantage, Zapp was once again left bewildered, watching human heads become rotted watermelons in record time.

"Stop exploding, you cowards!" he could only scream.

"Gee, whoever saw THAT coming? Way to go Grandmaster; what's your next plan, surrender?"

"Oh no question at all, but first… I know who's really at fault, and I intend to teach them a lesson."

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Back at the training grounds, the crew had cursed, slammed consoles and kicked walls against the fast-rising casualties of troops. Whatever was happening, it was a sudden and much unwelcome hurdle.

"Why must there be a link between Zapp opening his mouth, and disaster?" Leela had gritted.

"Yeah, I've got two-to-one odds on who he's blaming this time."

From a raised entrance: "MAYFIELD!"

"Geez Bender, why don't you gamble on Earth's sunrise next time?"

Soon the red-faced General had poked a sausage finger in the kid's chest, leaving him a soaring temptation to break it right off. Stares of indignant malice, or unjust fury, between the two.

"Okay you fat-mouthed chump; you've always got answers, so why are we losing right now?"

"I was commanded to train those troops Sir, and not an iota more. So tell me General, who gave THAT order to have 'em die off so quick?"

"I didn't ask for the real reason, child. I asked for the excuse you might offer once you fail us."

"My excuse? You've got some nerve, you spilled-over sack of shit." Mayfield slapped the hand away. "I'm not the one telling these guys to drop dead the minute I deploy them… Are you?"

Unable to shift the blame, Zapp's eyes widened in offence, his head hitching to Mayfield's until Leela got in between, trying her best to calm the situation.

"Guys, now's no time to escalate your grudge. Zapp, we're all doing the best we can, but unless you reverse course, that won't be good enough… So get it together, NOW!"

Zapp just took his paces and, far from taking the advice, had placed Mayfield under arrest. Protests aplenty for leaving them a crucial man down, but for seeing Zapp's pensive frown and solemn headshake, a fear of worse to come.

"It's clear that he's failed our beloved planet already, that my home meets its end. Damn shame I took a chance on such a toothless traitor, but heroes, they must give those second chances. Men, leave him to me, keep the crew back… Time I handle things personally."

Inside a second or so, Zapp had punched Mayfield square in the intestines, a small smirk for only him to see. At six-four, at least two-fifty, that fist had winded him good; once a few more dropped the kid to his knees, he felt a satin-white boot crash into his face.

"Why? And why now, you stupid c—"

"Because you were always there to try and one-up me, always craving to ruin my reputation. I try luring Leela to my loins, and you happen to be her only man. I fight for her love against those bloodthirsty robots, but you just had to kill more. I plan to assault The Zookeeper on his own planet, but I get stuck caring for your pathetic corpse."

Mayfield coughed from yet another kick in the gut: "Did you think I became her instant fiancé out of love?"

As Zapp kept stomping on his chest, even the soldiers struggled to hold Leela back. Mayfield could only try to roll away, or let a kick lash out in desperation.

"You begged, cried and harassed her for sex, while I paid back her favour to me. You sat on your lard arse doing nothing, while you caused an all-out war between Chapek-9 and Earth. You arrested her and used me—sick bargaining chips—to worm your way into her life again. After all that, you fucking fraud, WHO did you think she'd choose?!"

"As the General and Earth's truest hero on call, I thought the answer would be obvious. And if that means I must take whatever means necessary to achieve those goals, then so be it!"

Bender did a literal double-take, rewinding that conversation to make sure he heard properly.

"Hero on call? Then pick up the phone, Zapp! Big war going on, planet and universe at stake? Ringing any bells?"

"When you've got a girl like Leela, the world and universe can wait. Especially when she came in of her own free will. Why, I have the many dates to prove it. And soon enough, I'm sure to have another."

A click-click her way as she only stared, scared of the damage that had been, was yet to be done, as Zapp kept beating Thomas down. Had known of his obsessions and intentions for several years, but to murder an ally—in cold blood—to pursue them?

Only had her most evil eye for him yet.

"Zapp, he was never my fiancé, but especially now, his words ring true. As everyone's my witness, you've always been among the WORST human beings I've ever met. I'll never be caught alive or dead by your side, let alone think of marrying you. In fact, after this war, if you even so much as brush against me, I'll rip your shoulder out of its socket… Consider yourself warned, as of right now."

Any other time, Zapp might've been shattered; this time, he just steamed out his nose.

"A terrible shame Leela, to see he's corrupted you too. But my boots and fists are still rather clean, so how about another date, plus some complimentary coitus? Me or another dead crewman, you choose."

Kif, hoping to grab and inform the General of the catastrophe to follow, had hauled ass to the training grounds. But from a quick survey of the situation, of witnessing the crew and the General together, he knew what had gone down.

Closed his eyes, and considered the very common thread to Zapp's 'mastery' at work. Always to soothe or bolster his own self; how he piloted the Space Titanic, cut those opening ribbons, tried to destroy the Neutrals or instigated war against the Decapodians…

The eyes would flare again, a most intense hatred that almost had him bum-rush the General right there. But that was before he found Bender standing between Zapp and Mayfield, having bribed himself out of his hold.

"Not so fast, Captain None-der-pants!"

"I'll have you know I'm a good friend of Mom's too, so stand down robot."

"Like I'm supposed to care… You familiar with tape recording, big guy?"

"Oh mercy, you kidding me? Only the best re-invention of the late 30th century! Especially for finding those rare Neptunians Gone Wild boxsets…"

"Here's a collector's edition you WON'T enjoy, I assure you."

Seeing his beloved playground vanish now, and 'paying' the kid back for helping him get it, Bender put himself into perfect position to extort—not blackmail—the General responsible. Never did claim that he wouldn't record those private words after their chat… Sure he'd be a standby for one wasted superior officer, but that didn't mean he wouldn't cover his side bets either.

As he rewound and replayed that number, everyone had soon known of Zapp's recent conduct, including the current beatdown. Zapp knew he couldn't give so much as a "Whoopsy-daisy!" before he unsheathed his laser pistol, already set to fire.

 _"Who to kill first? The woman to reject me, the man to replace me, or the robot to ruin me?"_

Behind his back however, Kif had started to scale walls & ceilings, landing in stealth to snatch the gun from his General's hands. Potential games all over, as the man now knew good & well.

"It's mutiny, is it? I never thought I'd see the day. To think I promoted so far such a complete disgrace to MY Army."

"Correction, Zapp," came the rebuke. "Mutiny, AGAINST a complete disgrace, to THE Army… So help me, I'm about to scratch the itch I should've done a whole decade ago."

"You're about to commit the biggest mistake of your life, Lieutenant…"

"Zapp Brannigan, for your crimes of assault, coercion, attempted murder, disgraceful representation, and treason in times of war… I, Fourth Lieutenant Kif Kroker, hereby relieve you of your command, effective immediately!"

When Kif tossed the gun to the crew, Zapp began his advance towards him, a rabid froth of anticipation towards the harm planned. At first, the crew were worried—especially Amy—for Kif giving up a full foot and three times his bodyweight, if that.

But once they saw those eyes again…

For every wild swing, karate chop and attempt at a bearhug, Kif just bobbed, weaved, sidestepped and escaped with ease that disciple of Shatner. Didn't take much for Zapp to tire himself out, and for Kif to sock him over and over at will. Each speedy punch and whip-crack headbutt soon left the General a bloody mess, crawling about in tears.

"Why Kif, whyyyy? I thought we were perfect friends."

"Say that again, and I'll have your hole dug out. Men, send Zapp to the brig, and get Mayfield to medical. The crew and I will take the mantle. And for the rest of you, get to shoring up our numbers, double-quick!"

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

While the crew stared out towards the massacre outside bridge, Kif sat in the Commander's chair, his eyes still burning holes in poring over reports and firing off questions.

"Casualty reports, damage caused, soldiers remaining? Come on, let's be quick about it!"

"Sir, we're down by a significant majority, and we estimate just minutes before we're attacked on board. In saying that, we've got Private Davis's final recording."

Turned out, stopped clocks and all, Zapp's order might've been an accidental stroke of genius. The prankster at heart had bled the ears of those black, glowing beacons via a surprise yell and air horn, sounds to drop them screaming before the aerosol ran dry.

 _"Vale Jester, be one with the Gods now. For your tireless efforts, we will remember you."_

A final farewell from Kif, as he watched that 20-second clip over and over, calling both Professors and 'Bubblegum' Tate to explain the situation. For all their talks about HSAM, ultrasonic hearing, molecular densities and more, Kif felt a sudden epiphany trigger within.

The true workings of the serum; it didn't just raise one's strength & speed, but also their senses. Created predators who could discover their prey from even the smell of detached limbs. But, especially against untrained civilians in horrors of war, such enhanced senses could be overtaxed without problem.

Such ideas in mind as Kif addressed Leela, asking what she knew of karaoke.

"Well, I do know of a most beautiful love song." she aired. "Why?"

Kif pressed a button to point towards the biggest set of speakers that Leela had ever seen. The whens and hows of how they came to be were kept classified and hidden—a likely misappropriation of funds—but judging by the size, it could play music at volumes identical to a take-off near one's head.

"We're not sure how effective this could be, but here's hoping you can show us against these creatures."

Archbury took such moments to gloat: "You fools really thought you could stop me? Between your General, your in-fighting and your pathetic struggle, I outnumber you two hundred-to-one now! The damage has been done; surrender quietly, and I shall grant you all a quick death."

Kif hailed him: "Zookeeper, we're retreating as we speak, and offer a song of peace instead… Stand down please, let's avoid any further bloodshed!"

Zookeeper proved he had no such plans in mind, the minute those minions began to leap aboard the Nimbus. Punch, punch, punch, the front end ready to burst as the mics were tested and made live…

"Give 'em hell, Leela!"

Clearing her throat, she broke out into a chorus of 'I Will Always Love You', which under Whitney Houston had once helped define the '90s in music. Quite unlike that classic though, Leela's version had everyone's ears pressed shut, their knees on bridge threatening to buckle and give in.

As her voice grew louder & louder, as several howls of "Make it stop!" rained around, and even as Archbury got his phone to record this latest 'persuasion', things took a turn as those peasants were caught in a plague of noise; auditory booms to drop them fast.

As she kept belting her chords out, hundreds then thousands fell to their knees, or dropped into the foetal position. A solo to tear down their senses, overtax them to the point where they couldn't follow orders even if The Zookeeper gave them. Indeed, far from posing any threat, the ship attackers had slid off without effort.

With every 'retreat' and extras just a county over, Kif would give the go-ahead on 'Operation Stampede' as the advantage soon returned his way. In they came, rushing from nowhere, stomping the rest down and eventually forcing Zookeeper to surrender, to babble and froth in rage.

Almost nothing but curses as he flew off, 'The Admiral' close behind. To hear his lover's song again, now that was reason enough to ignore his master.

Those left behind could only surrender for hearing nothing, and just await their arrest and move on towards those cargo bays. Meanwhile, back on bridge, Kif raised from his seat.

"Let it be known on this November day, from soldier to ship crew to singer, that all your performances here blessed Earth with another chance… Kudos to you all, for standing up against such extraordinary pressure."

"No Sir, proper kudos belongs to you," Leela smiled, facing the diminutive leader. "Far as both I and everyone else is concerned, you've made a better General in these hours, than Zapp ever did in his entire career."

The entire bridge was led into applause; before long the training grounds and deployments had soon joined in. Humbled yet chuffed, Kif could only blush, give a rather limp-handed wave, and bow towards them all. But of course, standing to Leela, he knew who else deserved proper credit.

"I can't say I was a fan of your singing, but throughout our Democratic Order and beloved Earth, Miss Leela, you deserve just as much credit for saving us all thus far. We ever get through this, you have my word that your crew will be rewarded well for the trouble."

A hug between them and everyone else, as soon after, the Nimbus dropped the crew off to get Mayfield seen to. Once again wheeled into Taco Bellevue, alive but worked good n' tender, Mayfield found those familiar faces helping him get healthy again.

"Okay, what the hell does it take to die around here? Did my body meld with a T-1000 upon arriving?"

"The will to survive can be strong, perhaps more so than steel," Leela assured, patting his hand. So how 'bout it, a thousand bucks to say that you'll be out by tomorrow morning?"

"Money'd be no good to me as a dead man walking, so what the hell."

Once he disappeared into the ER, the other three would return to HQ, a mood of ecstatic delight sweeping through as they cracked a couple beers then & there. A moment of pause, enacted by the Captain…"

"To Thomas for a quick recovery, and to us all for our personal justice!"

"Hear, hear!"

A clink of congratulations, but even they knew they couldn't enjoy themselves for too long. Their feud was moments from closing; not even a Gordian-knotted rope could restrain them both now.

Only one place left, likeliest of all, to settle those scores forever. To save the entire universe and achieve that redemption, revenge, and of course reunion…

They had to travel back to the original icy lair of The Zookeeper, where everything had first snowballed for The New Justice Team so long ago.


	46. Uncertain Futures (6E)

**Chapter 47:**

 **Uncertain Futures**

* * *

For all The Zookeeper's fuse lighting and lethal threats, the crew couldn't believe that now, they had the ultimate powder keg all rigged to explode. After almost eighteen months of aimless scraping or defiant courage, the revolutionaries had their sequel—1400 years after the original—lined up.

Following an 'accidental' afternoon stay, Mayfield left Taco Bellevue a thousand dollars lighter, but a thousand worries heavier for poring over mail call. First thought that a day or two of packages would solve his problem, until among the bills he saw that onyx-black, gold lined invitation again.

Once to a gala that resembled a golden opportunity, now to the day after that reminded him, viscerally, of how much he could lose. Seeing it again had him run fingers over & over, the silken touch pounding both his heart and head.

Meanwhile, the other crew had gathered in the lab to ooh and ahh over the finished antidote, listening to claims of good faith that it could cure one person forever of Archbury's affliction. A careful reconstruction from Leela's sample, borne from the rarest ingredients including crystalline opal.

To imagine if Zookeeper had found Farnsworth's safe, or thought to ask him…

The Professors made clear however that it could only work for the current formula; it'd be relieving but useless for anything above. And unless they fancied their chances with Dr. Beeler again, it was a true one-shot deal, one to leave potential thousands out of luck for treatment.

Thousands, in panic for their sudden displacement, anger for getting no answers, and destructive for being cooped up together. And all those factors never considered the worst to happen; them being signalled and discovered once more…

His concerns numbering in dozens but perhaps summed up in one, Mayfield had approached the gathering to address both Professors, having heard inklings of the new antidote.

"Apologies for sounding ungrateful, but why couldn't be there any back-ups?"

"Any other situation, have you any idea of the felonies we'd have committed to put this thing together?"

Mayfield could only gulp, before he huddled everyone together and read his letter out:

* * *

 **It seems that the return of The New Justice Team is imminent.**

 **To whomever makes up your ranks, I must pay my begrudging respects. Seems we have wagered quite the war across these seas of stars, and regardless of whoever enjoys the spoils, we both shall remember forever.**

 **But the finer things in life beckons, and as the old saying goes, all good things must end.**

 **You know where to find me. Come alone, keep me waiting at Earth's peril.**

 **\- ZK**

* * *

Every single delivery, all those suspicions, every last brutal attack and mind game, and all their preparations for war. In their hands, in this single moment of time, an opportunity to answer those questions they'd long thought impossible.

A few deep breaths had between crew as Leela soon rose herself above the crew, a final Captain's address on the ship's stairs as she stood forward, clasped behind her back, and focused upon both boss and subordinate.

"Lady, gentlemen, robot… This journey's been, for the better part of two years, one of being beaten down and broken apart on a loop. Now we've arrived at the final stop; getting this far deserves a medal on its own."

Hands motioned to hearts; first hers, then theirs, before she looked to that iron ceiling and pounded her fists.

"For all my nightmares, I dreamed and fought of finding our spark, I clung to hope that I'd find my friends alive, and I prayed for that beautiful day of reunion, of rekindling. Well to quote Meat Loaf, two out of three ain't bad… But I am NOT one to settle and be happy."

 _"Took the words right out of my mouth,"_ Mayfield quipped under his breath.

"For how little he did anything 'round here, why in Babylon must we rescue Fry, woman? I'd sooner put Mayfield on crew, at least he tries to help us raise the bar!"

Rare compliment or no, even Mayfield squirmed against Hermes' words. Not the wisest sentence he'd speak…

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that Hermes, and you'd best hope I don't hear that again. Besides, for all we've done to discredit and damage that bastard, we're beyond that event horizon now."

"If I may interrupt for a sec, Cap'n?"

"Go ahead, Thomas."

"Hermes, we all owe him a solid arse-KICKing, one reason or another." A point to his stump. "Old and hopefully new, Captain could think of us like family. For once being a stranger, I took my lumps for nothing BUT mixed messages. Surely you're smart enough to understand the rest."

Hermes shrugged his shoulders, and kept silent as Leela grabbed their attention again.

"As Captain of Planet Express, and I guess as a moonlighting crime-fighter, it's about damn time that WE sent that creep into captivity. That WE close this cursed book we've been caught in. I've just a question for you all… "WHO'S WITH ME HERE?!"

Her huge raised fist in the air, and from everyone else a roar of approval. Arms pumping in whirlwinds, hands clapping with thunderous force.

"Then it's settled. I'll take Bender and Thomas to confront him personally. Everyone else, please keep yourselves safe, especially if we don't come back. Bender, grab the antidote and guard it with your life. Thomas, say your last goodbyes and wait outside. I might check around the ship, just in case."

A decision the kid hoped had never been made. Especially for all the assaults, torture, wars and other attempts since that first delivery, he had no wishes to play the hero…

Peeking from out of his cocoon, the bitter winds numbing his beard, Mayfield soon spotted Bender joining in, a cigar lit in his mouth. No care at first, until the smoke drifted past his nose, at which point he began to cough and hack up phlegm.

Quite a scene, one that had Bender glare across and grimace.

"What's your problem, sissy? Can't even handle a cigar?"

"Brilliant deduction, tin-can. You mind quitting it for a minute?"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"One, now's not the time to take things easy, and two, I've had enough poisons in my life, thank you."

Bender just haw-hawed and blew smoke in his face, almost falling after Mayfield's latest fit: "Not to me you haven't!"

All fun and games until the cigar got snatched out of his mouth, tossed down, and stomped on. The look in the robot's eyes… Seemed ready to make a cheap shot of him.

"Next time, that cigar's in your eyes! I wouldn't care normally, but save it for somewhere else now, got it?"

Leela would join ranks before the friction got too serious, and called her apartment as their first stop. But in crossing the street to the café, her war face façade had cracked, replaced by constant grabbing of her hair. Even Stevie Wonder could've seen the nerves about her…

"Everything okay, Captain?"

"Oh, yes, all's fine… Why do you ask, Thomas?"

"If it's obvious to me, who are you trying to fool?"

"Fine, no, I'm not okay. Ever since we met and well before, I've craved, savoured and begged for this one chance. Now that I've got it? I just think everything's gonna go to hell again."

"Well we're still here, and that's what has that snake rattled. And even against all the crew's screw-ups and close calls, we owe much of that to you."

"Come on kid, even you can see that there's no comparison, can't you? Even those last few months could NEVER prepare us for this, and if we screw up this time, we're done for!"

"Fair point, but I guess"—he clapped her shoulder—"you could always a cappella him to death. Worked a treat last time, didn't it?"

She couldn't even smirk before leading them back inside her whitewashed asylum. Only the precious memories to call it home, as they sat about the recreation room, humming about how to begin. For starters, some goodbyes she had weren't very fond ones…

"Guys, from first crawl to almost my 30th year, I trust you both know of the fires I've been forged from. You've seen how far I'd go for success; no place too deep, dark or deadly to shy away from."

Silent nods from the fellows, as she continued.

"And so it should be without saying… Despite all we've done to get here, I've never been more scared in my life. Winner-take-all, no higher stakes I've known. Either we're universal saviours, or we're dog chow, there's no in-between."

"As your technical elder, you sure said it lass. These nerves already made me go a couple of times, and I was certain I saw a trail of bricks a few blocks back."

"For good reason pal. For one, the old crew already failed once, and you don't need reminders I'm sure. Then there's the worries about what future tricks Zookeeper will carry up his sleeve."

Bender and Mayfield stole a glance at each other.

"You all get the drift now, I hope… Any questions?"

Bender piped up: "Once we get the gang back together, what'll happen to chrome-dome here?"

Leela's eye narrowed, before she rolled it in searching for answers. Talk about bad timing, and unplaced confidence…

"I'll thank you for blurting that out, Bender."

"Blurting what out?" Thomas whipped round. "What the hell's going on, Leela?"

"Let's just say that had I ran the business, I'd have never made the same decision."

"Well, please, don't keep my breath bated over here."

"Professor gave the order while I said my goodbyes. Once we rescue and resettle Fry into HQ, assuming we beat such odds… You'll be made redundant, alright?"

Could feel every last colour drain from his skin, his fists curl and crack knuckles: "You fuckin' kidding me, Leela? So not even as back-up crew?"

"Think I agreed to it? You've proven more than welcome since I gave you your start, and I don't know why Professor would've thought otherwise."

"Maybe I have ideas, but still, I've lost limbs and almost my LIFE to help rescue his business, his home. And that's how the back-stabbing mother—"

"Thomas, please! He'll put in a good word for you, I'm sure."

"Don't delude yourself; he STILL treated you like crap, and you've been his best employee for eons! What makes you think he'll care about me?"

The lone man stood to butt his head against the wall, gutted and unable to even look those two in the eye.

 _"Christ, even for all my efforts, nothing changed at all."_

His first success and friends in almost a thousand years, and now to have that snatched away… Soon leaving for 'air', he trudged out and down the hallway, as flickers of regret flashed across his peers.

 _"Would never be a good time to tell him…_ So, any final words Bender?"

"I thought I knew love, and every last suspicious, needy, fearful and greedy side, until your crew came back to save me. You know I'm thankful for that, and soon as he gets over himself, send my thanks to chrome-dome as well."

"Sure Bender, but how do you expect the kid to feel? He's known nothing else, now because our clown-in-charge's saving cents over making dollars, his future's screwed."

"I expect he should feel happy, since he's sacrificing for the greater good… Namely me, Bender."

"So saving your life and gifting Earth wasn't enough? If you'll excuse me."

Even for knowing his love of larceny, Leela left Bender inside to find her soon-to-be former charge, his palm across his face as he barged out the front door. In her calling out, and his halting, they soon stood where he once laid all those months ago.

"You might as well have left me there."

"Thomas, look how far you've come from the child who laid on that concrete. Mightn't be any consolation, but don't you think that's worth something?"

"Yeah, a fat load of jack-shit! Who are you convincing Leela? Besides, given the Miracle Cream, the sandwich, the stories and the lessons, it's all been you to get me this, give me something to aspire to. Now I've got to figure this life out by myself? Guess it's better than being gorged on by worms, but not by much."

"Look, I'm sorry that such news was sprung on you, but it's not like you never gave back! You helped get us leads, reunited us with old friends, even scored us this chance in part. I mean—"

"Can we just drop it? I have no future, and that's all there is to it."

"Like hell you don't! Let me clue you in… While the Nimbus tended to you, I spoke with Kif after our war. He was adamant that if we got through this, we'd be rewarded and well. And unlike Zapp, I'd trust his word a great deal more."

"ENOUGH of the empty words! Even in my long-lost past, the commanders told their men the same thing, before sending them off to die or deserting them if they survived. What kind of fool do you take me for?"

"Kid, careful who you accuse of speaking empty words… You know me better than that."

Could only throw up hands as he heard nothing, shake her head before returning to a giant mess, Bender in the worst of criminal moods. Was forced to whoop his ass back in line, before she closed her eye and her bedroom door, the ultimate change now hers to confront.

Once Bender had his grumbles and replaced her things, he knew the time had come. While Mayfield continued to fester and pace around, the robot began his eager search through his Compartment of Mystery.

A small hush of _"Ah-ha!"_ as he plucked out his outfit of old, minutes spent to blow upon, carefully wipe and polish off the lot. A royal fur-lined purple cape, his golden, gemstone-imbued crown, and the simple goggled mask over his eyes…

Soon a pose to let himself gleam under white lights… The King, His Highness of Justice, the Best One of the Three, had returned…

"So what do you think, my royal peon?"

"Yeah, guess it's fine."

"Subject, do not displease your King! Super King, that is. So I'll ask thee again, how doth I look?"

"Do me in like Anne Boleyn for all I care, but seriously, just fuck off already!"

Bender almost boiled at those words; were it not for Clobberella's sudden entry, the team might've become a dynamic duo then & there.

"Super King, let him go at once!"

There she stood to seize his limelight; black domino mask, hot-red bustier, custom orange-and-yellow Lightspeed Briefs, matching high heels to the knees, and a blood-red cape to finish the look. Her hair worn in a huge bouffant, while front and centre stood her emblem of a swinging rolling pin.

"Whoa… wow." Mayfield never thought it'd get better than the pictures.

"Swore I'd never wear this again… God, it brings back some bad memories."

A few quick adjustments, before she composed herself.

"Well Thomas, you'd better get changed yourself."

"Excuse me Le—I mean Clobberella… What are you talking about?"

"I'll make it simple. If you're going to run among our ranks, you'd better look the part. We both got you something to help you do that. Make sense?"

"I'm listening."

"Wait here, I'll be right back."

Before long a neat cardboard package was slid into his arms, leaving Mayfield to grow a little hopeful. Had many ideas of the perfect look, but his face fell flat and fast once he ripped that gift open.

A shining, skin-fitting, hot pink bodysuit. A satin green cape with pee-yellow stripes, similar in length to Clobberella's. Bright blue boots splattered in red polka-dots, right up past his knees. And most telling of all, not a straight face to be seen as Leela tried to tour the features.

"Okay, okay, so you can—" A bite of her tongue. "Call others." A breath or two. "And also—"

"Hell no, Leela."

"Why not Thomas, it would look ah-may-zing!"

"Because if that's what my efforts were worth to you this whole time, after all I've lost, then clearly I'd have no future either by myself… Or as your fucking joker."

Didn't even touch the suit, before he began leaving for the door. Leela, having gained a different kind of heat vision, rushed to block his way.

"I can't believe you… That bodysuit is where you draw the line, after all the horrors we faced together?"

"That's not the point. This look screams obvious target for The Zookeeper, and you remember my time in his chamber! What do you mean by sending me out like this, to be ripped apart?"

"You think he'd care about that, idiot? Even for all he did, all his attempts, you've always been the rat to squeak away. Now we called you into our ranks for a reason, and I didn't get this created SOLELY to have you laughed at. Time's short as it is, so if you're going to whine & bitch, keep your little tough-guy look."

Between middle fingers, threats to break them, and Bender's demands for attention, everyone left the apartment equal parts bitter and angry. Patting themselves down once, twice, three times to be sure, they were soon under the cover of an approaching night. The less people that saw them, the better off they'd be…

As either brave heroes forced into sadistic choices, or criminals in need of justice themselves, they didn't want to leave any encounters to chance. Rushing past the Museum of Natural History, and the return of rough memories again, they soon wound up at those infamous ice caverns of over two years ago.

Leela used her first glob of many, knowing she needed any miracle she could get. Mayfield did as well, even for having lost the will to care.

But he didn't know that, as the rank filed inside that frozen wasteland, those old friends within were going to give him reasons to.


	47. Those Who Don't Remember (6E)

**Chapter 48:**

 **Those Who Don't Remember…**

* * *

Matters not helped by the winds outside, even Miracle Cream couldn't stop chills through the bones of that crew. Over two years ago it took only moments to get the tour and face him, a simple Gemerald trade to have an assumed truce taken care of. How they wished it would remain that way…

But the further the New Justice Team travelled those caves now, and the further the mercury dipped below thirty-two, the more they realised just how serious their latest encounter had become. Whether from sheer nerves or cold, Mayfield had racked up a bunch of shivers; even for asking about warmth both Clobberella and Super King had denied him.

Months to build trust and get them here, only minutes to be reduced to tagalong, at best.

The caverns started to grow central after several minutes of walking, where they found themselves glancing around the huge arena that'd likely been set up. Emptiness at first; just a field of ice before they began to notice the chambers, bevelled sections, and chiselled gaps to peek out.

"Great Cheech's ghost… How did Zookeeper do this, especially through the summers?"

"Lots of money, lots of servants, good amount of time, plenty of…"

"Did I ask you, Thomas?"

"No ma'am."

It wasn't just the ice itself to shrivel him inside. He knew he had tossed his goodwill again, even the friendships he sacrificed limbs for. All the lessons in the months since coming here… Now he had returned to the petulant brat he'd always been.

 _"Who was I, to decide what the Fates should hold for me?"_

Plenty of thoughts as they took more moments to look around, soon spotting the true source of their recent problems. A sight to blow them back 12-gauge plasma style, jaws could've cracked the ice as they watched that machine chug along. The sheer size, constant output, the carts upon carts of storage…

After a few more moments to look around, they spotted the true source of their recent problems. Jaws could've cracked the ice as, blown back 12-gauge plasma style, they watched that machine chug along. The sheer size, constant output, and unthinkable storage. Had potential millions, even billions, of soldiers lined up once that got out.

 _"If only Cookieville never screwed you up…_ Zookeeper, we've come to answer your challenge… Stand & deliver, or face justice's wrath!"

Only reverbs and falling icicles to show for the Captain's brave callout, even several of them. Hearing nothing, she beckoned both her teammates towards those carts, towards the purple sea of vials that sat there undisturbed.

"I guess we'd better encourage him out of his seat. Super King, go make some ice holes. You, help me grab these things. If nothing else we can deprive him; I doubt he'll go swimming after them."

At first it'd been a careful operation; Super King tempered a belched flame into a burner, and Clobberella grabbed some handfuls to drop into the water, getting as low as she could to improve precision. The cold suddenly grew several orders worse for Thomas; he became no help as his hand grew quick to stiffen and lock up.

Another set of dirty looks, as the once dynamic duo instead chose to lift the cart to dump the lot at once.

"You won't have your serums forever, Zookeeper. More you ignore us, more that shall sink… Come on out!"

A reverb off the icy walls, and then a rejoinder similar, and creepier, to the chill of Death off her apartment.

"In due time, my dear, in due time."

Leela spun about in every direction, that voice worming through her core: "What the hell do you mean, you bloated snake?"

"For starters, it personally gladdens me to see you make it. In simple terms, you're my favourite adversary… I've lost count of how much I've stolen from your pathetic life; your dreams, your boyfriend, your trust and your beliefs… And you know what, Little Miss One-Eye?"

Taking a graceful skate of purpose towards them, none other than The Admiral…

"I'm not one to let go of such hot streaks so easily."

Only a curdling muffle to be heard as Mayfield's mouth was clapped, as a syringe full of serum plunged into his neck. Falling to his knees, he watched agape as his veins began to corrupt, electrifying and glowing purple-and-black.

Seemed about right; for those sudden racking shivers near the carts, it had been his powers fading away. Trust even miracles to start betraying him now.

Meanwhile, waddling out of his true lair with arms open wide, was their worst enemy of all.

"Well, well, well… It's quite a fond reunion we have here! Might I suggest we stay a while? I've got some tea and scones in the oven?"

Leela looked livid upon sighting him; she moved to mow him down before The Admiral gripped her arms and pinned them to her back. Grew tempted to drag him along in punching the Zookeeper, but she knew that such impulses wouldn't let her stay Captain for long.

"What the hell did you do to him?"

"Take a wild guess, you fool! After that failure of my war, I remembered I didn't need anything so grand and wasteful to beat you. This time, I'm letting your fake fiancé take command, with my two-point-zero! Everything you've faced once before, and a brilliant boost in brainpower as well!"

The Zookeeper then ripped out a red button, and kept yammering while Leela squirmed to break free.

"And this baby will rip him from inside out, at any moment I desire! You'll be there, helpless to save him, just as you were helpless to save Fry."

"If I ever get my hands on you, so help me Lord…"

"Oh, what, you're going to pummel my teeth in? How long have you failed to follow up? In fact, why don't I let such a wonderful streak continue?" Two quick claps, and the Admiral spun Leela around.

Dug his paws into her outfit—earning quite a protest—to seize her single antidote. Flicked it into the gapped cavern, down the ice and out of sight, before they all watched the ice wall shut off access. Super King had no time to react, before his own door was ripped open. There went The Professor's antidote, sliding down and vanishing into that darkened chamber.

The bevelled section soon gave way to a five-by-five grid, imbued by a selection of two combo-coloured tiles; black & purple, or green & gold. Even for still gritting his teeth, Mayfield had tilted his head towards it, getting the oddest feeling.

Another sneer, quick double-clap, and stare into his lair: "I take it you know what comes next."

A dozen of his corrupted civilians to emerge, now much better in a scuffle, and a great deal tougher for soon surrounding the team. Two or three apiece, and plenty of substitutions yet.

"I do forget to mention these parts, do I? Whoopsy-daisy… No matter, feast your eyes on what lies ahead. You'll need great vision under pressure, a keen, quick-witted mind, and the ability to prepare for some classic, deadly games of mine…"

While the original heroes were left to curse, the ultimate criminal conducted his spiel; who'd be doing what, as those minions soon grabbed them, a split-up of sorts now setting in effect.

"And as for your friend, if you fail him, he'll be helping me rip you and the Earth asunder, all en route to conquering the universe… You've all got one hour to succeed, so better be quick. And of course, have fun!

A great laugh to rise from his chest, as he prepared the ticking countdown and called Admiral back to stand guard, to prepare his front-row seat to the New Justice Team's failure.

In the middle of her almighty blue streak, Clobberella found herself tossed into an ice wall nearest to the grid. Super King, for such self-imposed stature, had found himself sliding spear-like into the chamber, only a loud clang of metal to put him to a complete stop. Mayfield got tossed closest to the entrance, rolling and thudding along as those minions went separate ways towards each member.

Eyes widened, heart beating fast, Mayfield faced off against the minions who cracked knuckles and bared teeth. The worst kind of life lessons, now ready to stack upon his plate.

The Zookeeper's would-be army, time itself as well, the freezing cold to numb him… Worms could only do so much to counter such idiocy, that which left him the same child to be bullied, harassed and broken apart on his first night in the city.

Wasn't sure why they didn't just kill him, it was what he deserved… Maybe Zookeeper wanted to know the full effects of this serum, witness the light die from his eyes before he lit up the true way.

Exactly as he showed Fry, since the first day they worked 'together'.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Once he popped his head from out of the ice wall, the Best One of the Three—or so he'd have you believe—could only switch on his eyebeams and gaze about, fearful for his missing prize. Afraid to move for the possibility of a hole, his lights soon spotted two of Archbury's men kicking the vial between themselves. A game of Keep Away; Ronaldo and Messi versus an outdated robot.

In fact, he was soon sent plunging into an ice hole, weighed down by his cape and trapped by the relentless men to toy with him. Knew he had no lungs, so were happy to press his head under, watch him flail about. All he could do in response was to burp flames, curse off the walls, and swat arms against the untroubled nuisances.

The five-minute mark had crawled by, and already the winner looked obvious right from the get-go.

 _"I get my hands on these rats, I'm gonna drown them, I swear to…"_ One could argue that he wouldn't fail in vain, had he done so.

Elsewhere, Clobberella had felt the pressure heap upon her, not just for the foreign puzzle to face, but for the three minions who swarmed her throughout. Had always been a cry of "Hi-yah!" to escape a bad situation, but it now seemed that this was the night when she couldn't lay a hand on anything.

Had been quite the while since she and Zookeeper met like this, so long since she remembered his true modus operandi. It had always been his game plan to play her emotions; threats, phone-calls, letters, rigged odds and worse to lure her into more impulsive states.

All dirty tactics, and they had never failed to work.

 _"Damn all this to hell, if Mayfield had that stupid outfit on, we'd be getting help in no time."_

Five minutes became ten, as Mayfield had thoughts flash of remaining in hospital while continuing to get beat up. Never would've faced such a triple-whammy in that bed, that one bad day of being fired, broken into sprinkle-sized pieces, then eventually corrupted to Zookeeper's side.

 _"Fucked it all up, mate… Could've had the universe to search for your future, yet you just cared for this small world. Not like Leela had no reason for such malice, maybe you don't deserve the new life she gifted you…"_

Just then he started catching blows to the head, a change to make a huge epiphany flash before him. Leela HAD been teaching another lesson the whole while; who you were was determined by actions more than words. For a so-called 'tough guy', he had a rather poor fight record; against Leela in his 'leathers', Kif for being a 'bounty hunter', and even against Zapp. A coward himself, but a pragmatic one.

He soon pleaded and begged for mercy, as the minions were then ordered to discard and toss him aside. Giving his profuse thanks, he took his chance to crawl and hobble away, hearing Zookeeper's chortle for limping out of sight.

"Would you look at this, Clobberella? Seems like your 'tough-guy' hero wet his pants and saved his own hide! I wonder what that could remind us of… Those who don't remember the past and all."

As the scenes of dread started to swarm her, as those powerful creatures kept stalling what little time she had left, she could only sink to her knees and scream towards the opening.

"That's how you treat me, after I take your worthless corpse in?! DAMN YOU, THOMAS!"

Hearing that, The Zookeeper knew his plan could not have gone better. Just wanted to lure them in, drag such dreams and hopes towards eventual end before crushing them. Mayfield had ran off, but he'd be among his ranks soon. Clobberella's wails had pierced the walls, no sweeter music he'd ever hear. Super King had still gone nowhere, judging by the books of bad language off those walls.

First, he'd make them watch their own slow murders, then he'd add Mayfield to his permanent slave roster, and then his plans to seize the planet, the universe later, would go on uninterrupted. Seemed eager to have them know, as his laughter echoed against their struggle.

"Tonight, I wipe the stains off my undefeated streak! Soon, I will BOW any planet, every galaxy, all the star systems before my whim! I'll become the God to snatch every last treasure, create a kingdom that none shall ever surpass! Ultimate victory, in my hands… Nyah ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha!"

As unhinged as he might've sounded, he might've been absolutely right… This was how he envisioned things to go, similar as they did to eighteen months ago.


	48. Answering the Call (6E)

**Chapter 49:**

 **Answering the Call**

* * *

He'd been down this path before.

Falling over on the ice, there the kid was crawling on his stomach, stars coming into focus while death's touch hovered inches away. Only now he had to contend against his Captain's disowning of him, Zookeeper's early yet triumphant call of victory, and the twisted loss of an already suspect freedom.

A nod towards all those possibilities, all echoing off the walls before he declared an oath of his own.

 _"I made my promise back in New Jersey, and faced much worse since… I break that word now, I'll deserve that empty life to come."_

Money to his mouth as he began slamming his foot into the ice, using the small holes' lip to loosen his boots. Dropping the cream to his side he began hitting his hand against the wall, trying to fight against the freeze by pumping his fingers.

By his crackling arm, just forty minutes to go as he uncorked the tube, squeezed and slathered globs over his face & legs, hands fighting the cold before his body came alive. Damned if he wasn't going to control his own fate, as he lost another few minutes to escaping outright.

Burst and smashed through Leela's front door, snatching that pink bodysuit he so condemned. Knew upon putting it on that he'd become a drug-tripped strawberry cheesecake, but now realised just what the outfit really meant. Sure it was a cruel joke, but as opposed to being the crook they'd have 'brought to justice' mere months ago, it was quite the coronation.

An 'I' in justice, never in team, and a blinding anger to block that out until too late. At least Leela spoke the truth about the free-call service, for after a little time spent to work the suit, a phonebook-length menu had popped up. More precious moments, searching through that long list of numbers to discover Amy Wong's.

A gasp when it went to voicemail, but a message thankfully allowed.

"Hey Amy, rookie here! Stabbed by serum, face being ZK's slave, get Kif to call me, urgent response required! Bye."

Amy was nothing if not efficient, as moments later, the diminutive green one was on the line.

"Yes, this is Acting General Kif Kroker, state your business."

" _Now that's fast work…_ Evening Kif, Amy's dress-ripping guard here. Listen, we're desperate for help; whatever you can spare in your reinforcements, please do. Once you've got 'em, meet me outside the front entrance of the Museum of Natural History, okay?"

"Yes, Amy called to send the message. I'll do what I can, as quick as I can."

"Please hurry Sir, we're in a serious situ—"

The call had ended after his scream punctured the walls again, as he watched his arm crackle further, now halfway corrupted. Sped out the open gaps and through the city, he'd figure out the excuse later.

Was all so obvious, and yet for his passion of finding heroes in this new future, he had flunked Supervillain 101. Surprise ambush, obvious advantage, obstacles upon obstacles…

While he still had whatever freedom was left, seemed about time that he played that game too.

Reaching the Museum's steps in a couple minutes, he let another wail pierce the skies as Kif, dressed in that custom white uniform, stood worried before him. Flanked by a good thirty super soldiers or more, all falling over and shedding tears for the ridiculous look the kid would sport.

Kif needed only those eyes and a few words, before they stood straight to attention, and he addressed the 'hero' straight.

"Acting General Kif Kroker and the DOOP Army, at your request for assistance."

"Uh, Bubblegum Battler, I guess, and thanks for coming on such short notice. To be on the level, we're bound to lose. Zookeeper had us set up and lured; cost us both our immediate cures. They're now out of reach behind nasty puzzles, and worse yet, he's brought out several minions to keep us from progressing. I fear that from my fault, he could be right in declaring his ultimate victory."

"I'd sooner reinstate Zapp as General… What do you think should be done?"

"Well, thing is, he believes I ran away like a coward. Well, he's got the last half right. Here's the deal; first we knock that fat fucker out, so he can't spew out any more orders. Second, we pin his flunkies down or eliminate them if need be. Third, we help our friends push forward, no matter what's required."

"Understood… MEN!"

Confident for having an army of equals at his back, especially for how Kif barked his orders and inspired those soldiers into line, Mayfield soon sped the formation down the steps and through the caverns.

He was through running.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

It seemed that in his absence, he heard Zookeeper's laughs of grandeur continuing to puncture the walls, all as the New Justice Team kept fighting for nothing. Poking his head out to witness the carnage, he took his breaths and stepped out in plain sight.

A yell to grab the villain's attention, and little else before The Zookeeper whipped his head towards him. Began to break down; what started as a small gut rupture soon had him sliding off that chair, slapping the floor in sheer mocking delight. No live feedback for his minions, and once Mayfield's countdown had ended, no attention paid to DOOP's men getting themselves into position.

Though The Admiral kept trying to attract his attention, he too found himself snatched, taken aside and silenced. For fear he'd fall apart again while getting to his feet, Zookeeper couldn't even look that upstart hero in the eyes.

Not that he had a chance; one tippety-tap later on his shoulder, all he had was a moment before a swift hook dropped him colder than the ice. The button carefully stored away, DOOP's men then got into groups of reserves and cavalries for each member.

The minions in the shadowed chamber had still toyed with the gurgling Super King, before they were blinded by several lights. Moments later they were subdued—pummelled for good measure—and the Professor's antidote was secured. Those soldiers had then gathered into Leela's group, turning a well-won battle into a foregone conclusion.

But as Mayfield coughed blood and gripped his intestines, the corruption snaking past his elbow, he still found that for finishing off the harassers, Clobberella had still gone nowhere regarding the puzzle. Every tile she influenced, the surrounding tiles seemed to flip as well.

Approaching her in that bright pink outfit, he expected, and got, a reception laced just as rich in contempt as when they first met.

"So the coward actually returns... Really, no need for your heroic comeback, we had things all in hand here. Outfit or no, you think I'm gonna—"

"Shut your mouth, argue about my candy-arse later. We've got work to do."

"The hell did you say to me?"

"You heard me Captain. You said it yourself, time's already short. You wanna waste it chewing me out?"

"They'd make for nice final words, I think… Now you're just gonna waltz in and help with this thing?"

"Puzzle does ring a rather old bell… You've seen anything that could help, by any chance?"

"Of course not, I was too busy getting my ASS kicked all over."

"Point taken. Perhaps our safari-suited friend might hide a secret or two… Let's search him."

As The Battler and Clobberella rummaged through pockets, pants and wide-brim hats, Mayfield began to remember things about that teaser. Back in long, long, LONG gone days of gaming & exploring, he had known only solutions of sacrifice for what laid ahead. In those games, hardly any consequences… Right here, couldn't say the same.

However, they did find on Zookeeper's person a parchment to offer clues, and a vial coloured just like those tiles they needed to switch over to. Leela housed that inside her outfit, as they both scanned the animal skin; fourteen dashes, a visual chart, and an indecipherable language to decode.

Flickers of matched symbols spattered about, and a groan from Clobberella as she dragged out her letter. Knew she had kept it in her cabin for a reason… A white piece of paper; small tear in the top, two dozen characters identical to the parchment. Ever since Cookieville had been condemned, it had always been her keepsake of new origins, and of course old friends.

"Of all the times to be reminded, now had to be it?"

"So we've got symbols like DNA sequences, scissors on LSD and squiggly bits. Great, just wonderful, now who's the genius who's gonna figure this out?"

About fifteen minutes to go…

"You said it kid… Always thought I was an alien, but if I never know the language, who the hell am I?"

"Talk philosophy later, check this bag I looted. Looks like nothing but stone blocks and a letter inside…"

Unfurling the paper, a quick scan unsheathed a voice that had him yelp. As if the situation wasn't ominous enough…

* * *

 **"Tap these stone letters,**

 **I'll give you just five.**

 **Reveal wisely heroes,**

 **or you won't leave alive!"**

* * *

A share of complaints and realisations had, a solemn vow to send The Zookeeper into the hole, if not Hell, and then they began their debates on which letters to choose. Comparing both letter & parchment, common vowels, and Wheel of Fortune gimmes in good times, they both chose the letter E. A crop circle with compass points faded into existence; a perfect match for the parchment's fifth and eighth dash.

Thinking of Leela's letter, and using that gimme list again, they tapped to reveal the letter S. Two crossed curve lines with a big circle inside; sweet choice for the fourth and fourteenth dash. Unproven theories abound, especially for believing she had it since Cookieville.

They then issued an uncertain H, thinking other words wouldn't have made sense. Closing on ten minutes left, a curved arrow pointing to a dot came to be; a helpful discovery for dash two, seven & twelve.

An idea flashing to mind, Mayfield immediately revealed letters T & L, preferring safety over mystery. Once they revealed themselves as hieroglyphic fidget spinners or the aforementioned scissors, he could've kicked himself. Had such bonus letters been in place already, the solution would've already come to him.

Grateful for the game shows, he called it as being 'CHASE THE LIGHTS'.

"Now whatever the hell could that mean?"

"Whatever it means, you better get your ass in gear… Just look at your arm."

As the corruption snaked up to his shoulder, Mayfield screamed and collapsed, grits of great agony in his teeth. While he rolled about, Leela remembered her and Kif's war efforts; that keen mind in confronting Zapp's hostage bid, that leadership in regrouping his fast-dying men, and the determination in snatching victory from Zookeeper's well-clenched jaws.

Even for Bender's efforts back then, he looked to be the perfect sort…

"General Kroker, your attention, if you're able to spare it?"

"Please make it quick," before he barked more orders. "What's this?"

"Our puzzle solution; given the puzzle, we've little idea what it means. We hoped you'd be able to clarify for us."

Kif scanned the paper, taking moments to hum. As he got led to the puzzle, he made the connection in an instant.

"Start from the top row, flip the tiles underneath, and continue that pattern until none are left. Should anything remain down the bottom row, this visual chart gives your combination of patterns, and how to re-switch them. That sound correct?"

Flashing quite the grin, she slapped Kif on the shoulder before helping her former charge, now very sick & woozy, to his feet. Kicked himself again going "Of course!" as they dragged themselves about. Inside a minute, the puzzle was cleared, and that solid ice wall had finally started to slide itself open.

Her spare antidote, lying idle, and no doubt a final test to take. Gods only knew what that Taft-like tyrant had in store.

Less than five minutes left as Clobberella dragged Battler towards Super King, now smoking his Zuban and rather chilled for having the world's fate in his rotors. Even in watching him begin to sink, His Highness had known of them needing that cure-all, and didn't care to part from it.

"Alright King, we're about ready to proceed… Antidote, please?"

"Super King, little miss hero. And sure thing, but it'll cost Mayfield here."

"It'll cost YOU more than him in a matter of minutes, so don't screw around! Give it up."

"No, not until he takes a little test of my own. Something that determines who—"

"Oh forget this nonsense!"

Tripping him up, she flung that cape over his head to find the on/off switch, before rummaging through his compartment to grab the vial. Raced off again, the near-dead weight of Battler attached, as she soon seized her individual antidote, wrapped those powerful legs around the kid's waist, and shoved the liquid right down his throat.

At first, everything seemed to return to normal… Until the shocks returned, he roared again, and that massive ice wall trapped them inside.

"Didn't think you'd care after I ran, but why I am cured? Worked for you, didn't it?"

"Professors couldn't prepare for Zookeeper's latest serum; course he'd plan that little twist! Think it's only reset you, daresay you've got only the original hour left."

"And now nowhere to run… Guess that means we'd better get to work."

His disguise of calm as thin as his chances, they once more looked about the chamber, shuddering for being trapped and for the new challenge. A shaky history, a touchy friendship, and a storybook of adventures behind them.

An hour and counting to save Mayfield, and likely not much longer to save everyone else.


	49. A Matter of Survival (6E)

**Chapter 50:**

 **A Matter of Survival**

* * *

In the vast emptiness to surround Captain & charge, only ice and a strange mechanism greeted their three eyes. One to feature a bottom section of similar-sized holes, and a top section of some storage box and green button. A quick and trivial inspection, yet a telling one.

"Sure was expecting much more than that… What weren't we told?"

"No clue, Cap… No clue."

Whatever theories they could've bandied about, they had soon dispersed for the thin sheet of paper poking out the box, that swooping scrawl of Archbury's all over it. One to unfold and read together, and this time not feature the usual pomposity they'd come to remember from him.

Just credits towards their efforts thus far, and among the paragraphs, an exposure of original plans for that fancy vial he hid on himself. One that'd solve the grid puzzle without effort, save heaps of time—for the final cost of Mayfield's cure.

If such temptations were ignored, all they had to do was mix the both together, and survive whatever came next. Further grateful for Kif's help, and for DOOP snoozing such persuasion tactics, she inserted the two vials, clicked the timer, and took a walk around.

If the final task was to just wait around and talk for however long, Clobberella could've done that all day. But experiences both prior and current, and especially regarding 'survival', had her doubt such intentions. Indeed she called Battler over with thoughts to investigate the area.

Punching at walls, kicking through the ice, pushing for secret chambers, leaping to crack the roof… Had spent a good half-hour desperate to expose anything, but even they had to admit to running out of ideas.

"Searched every inch, and not a damn thing to see… The hell does Zookeeper mean by this 'matter of survival' anyway? Did we miss some trap-infested obstacle course, or a lethal game show knockoff, or—"

"Shhhh, don't give him ideas, damn you! Trust and believe, look into my eyes, he doesn't need anymore."

"Heh, yeah, guess you're right. Hey, if it's just a matter of humdrum waiting, that'd be the easiest thing I've done all month."

"Preach to me, lass… Say, you wouldn't happen to have some cream on you, would you?"

"No, I used my last globs trying to fight those monsters. In fact, had Kif and DOOP not intervened, I'd be blood and skin all over the ice… Puts a new meaning to red, white and blue, doesn't it?"

"I see, well, you'd best take mine then. My switch is only inevitable, and even the worst superhuman beats the best human, hundred outta hundred." He ripped off his boot to hand it off, gritting as his foot flattened over the ice.

"Thanks kid. You know, I'd been there for losing everything; as angry as I grew at my apartment or especially for you running away, I should've tried to understand."

"No-one's fault but mine. Zookeeper's done so well scaring me; the thought of being his slave could stop my heart. Besides, not like I never got my shares of major arse-kickings since coming here."

"So what do you think? Since the months we met, you believe we're any closer to the answers?"

"I'd be a fool to speak now, you know that."

"Good point… Perhaps we'd better investigate again, I'd never believe things could be this easy."

They got nothing from behind the mechanism, and for a couple of cream rubs, they even went swimming in the waters hoping that any secrets could be revealed beneath. But only solid walls and stiff freezes as they re-surfaced, before The Battler began to collapse.

Blood coughing up again, throat starting to close, violent shivers above and below…

 _"It's coming, Clobberella,"_ he rasped, as she palmed his shoulder. _"Get your cream on, and get ready to fight."_

"Are you serious? Even without powers, I've already been afraid of killing you."

 _"I'd rather die by your hand than his, especially if you thwart that son-of-a-bitch. I'm giving you that blessing, and I expect you to heed it… Do NOT hold back, and do NOT let up."_

"That's it? You're just going to toss your life, even after all your efforts? There's gotta be—"

 _"YES! I've listened to how he hurt you, and I've known the horrors he's capable of. Hell, if Fry's been any indication, I'd much rather dig that dirt grave. If my leaving means your reunion, then please let that be."_

A final shake of the hand: "Okay… It's been a ride, shame to see it end."

While she witnessed Battler seemingly begin to crack and split apart upon transformation, Clobberella cracked her new tube open to squirt a liberal amount all over. Concern for not getting some serum from Kif, but bigger concern for the black and purple creature not three feet from her.

For the demonic gravel that soon introduced her to him.

"Bow down and bid welcome, towards the Atlas to Zeus of gods! Solomon's grandmaster, Hercules' inspiration, Achilles' intimidator, Mercury's superior! No world nor person shall hide secrets from… The Bloodhound."

He paced around, taking in his surroundings while Clobberella kept her distance.

"All these scents, sights and sounds to greet me; learned more in thirty seconds than almost thirty years… The purest of freedom, save for my warden's will."

That warden's will soon imposed itself, became a time warp of horrors projected over those icy walls. Events he knew had happened over the past several months, but now corrupted beyond the point of simple propaganda.

Everything else he knew since he first arrived on New New York's shores had remained for the most part untouched, save for one crucial factor. That cyclops he so championed had, all this time, ended up his greatest enemy.

There he'd be trying to search for a home, there she'd be waiting to encounter him, to kick his teeth in without provocation. Never chose to let up, even as he begged for mercy. When Archbury happened to hear the news, he arrived on scene to call the ambulance, pay out for his treatment, and ensure he'd be safe.

Clobberella did remember such violence, but certainly not the unprovoked nor endless sort seen there. Nor of Archbury being anywhere near the scene.

"The hell did any of THAT happen?!"

A growl of disdain towards her, as he continued to watch, hands clutched over his head. Once the kid recovered, Zookeeper called in some favours, including for that delivery boy job. While Mayfield got toured around, he'd again encounter the cyclops… Cue another beating, and a promise of much worse if he failed her.

A short yet disastrous memory, a further breakdown, and yet another protest from Clobberella.

"Oh Lord, what a complete load… Sure I wasn't so nice, but that's taking things way too extreme!"

The time warp took him through Stumbos-4, through the weeks since, and through the accusing parlour. Every single time, despite best efforts to please her, he would end up either abandoned, or castrated in front of customers. Archbury had always been there; teaching him to use the guns, rubbing down the Miracle Cream, giving back his proper tips, or tearing that wall down to get to him.

"Who am I supposed to be, the Devil Incarnate? Even the most desperate politician would back off from all these smears."

And then there was that hospital stay in particular. A clever omission of the role he had putting him in a weeks-long coma, and letting logic draw the natural conclusion. Then a sudden wake-up towards facing her, now burnt red from rage, as she palmed her sandwich to begin force-feeding him.

Seconds moulded into several days, in his case literally as the snack festered into a ruthless disease, one to create a living human corpse out of him. One to comprise of, among others, every gangrene—Fournier's as well—before being doomed to die.

If one ever needed a face for contemptuous disbelief, Clobberella's would've nailed it then & there.

"Wow… I've seen and heard my share of garbage, but that's in a level of its own."

"And yet, those are exactly the events as I've seen them," came the venomous reply. "Think any words of yours will change that?"

The heroine knew better than to answer, especially once she watched his life after that… Nothing involving New New York at all, and experiences she just couldn't speak about.

A visual truth alright, to see him lie in that vomit & whiskey. In came his parents, their beloved friend Archbury, to soap and shower him, then prop him up in bed. A promise that everything would be alright again, that under Archbury's wisdom and guidance, the true cause would be achieved.

Now he sat in that nameless office, coach Archbury helping him lay down the law against not just those big-mouthed brats over the phones, but for the agents left bombarded in those cubed trenches. Unknown voices now, to praise an attitude of leadership, compassion, and assertion.

 _"To not be prisoner to her anymore… More than anything in the world."_

Favours had the threat of arrest called off, his influence stopped cold his brother's phone-call. Piece by piece, Archbury had returned things to normal, and he could enjoy that all again by doing just one thing…

Having taken in every last detail, Clobberella had a permanent gurn affixed to her face. She knew better, but having remembered Fry's fate, she chose to house her cream inside her bustier. A pre-emptive insurance, in case the kid just lashed out to attack her.

"Bloodhound, please don't think he's the answer to all your questions, the gatekeeper to your fantasies. For Heaven's Gate, he SOLD you the reality you face now! The tortures, the missing limb, the attempts on your life, the city-wide war… Don't you remember?"

"What nerve have you, to so blaspheme his name? To so deny those months of footage, downplay your roles? You think you're entitled to my mercy, when I never had ANY from you?"

"We've talked about this, we've been here before! Even for all my stories growing up, do you think me such a monster as to kill without cause? He's using your memories against you, corrupting you towards a life he'll NEVER give."

"You're full of lies, hero. You think I'd be so stupid as to fall for them?"

"Look to the one who served by his side, before you accuse me of lying. Besides, look around you… You think there's no secrets he hasn't hidden right now?"

The sentence seemed to have him consider, which allowed Clobberella to word 'curiosities' about whatever laid behind the walls, or inside the mechanism, or anything else at all.

"Funny, it's been a world of clicks and ticks since I came about… Let's see what hides from me."

Bloodhound's eyes started to brighten, soon 'melting' the wall before him to discover an intricate set of gears; at least a couple hundred clicking at pace. Seemed to find their connection to that giant ice wall, and then heard where the ticks had sounded from.

A digital clock, and a countdown of some several days to go.

Clobberella was floored for the news; Zookeeper's plan had never allowed for second chances. Her powers would fade, her cream would run out, and his new soldier would enjoy a prized head on his wall.

And if that didn't worry her enough, out came that footage again; this time a face speaking the same voice she'd heard during that day of retaliation.

"Kill her, Bloodhound. Destroy Clobberella, and—"

The voice cut to a sudden stop, but as it echoed off the ice, it had been enough. For the former charge turned criminal right-hand, all he felt was a thousand needles in his head, a series of searing flares in his synapses…

Only one single order to follow, and all the more motivation for being fed that footage.

"Your death has been decided… For Zookeeper's glory, and for my personal vengeance!"

Knowing she didn't learn wrist-flick kill moves for nothing, Clobberella just snapped "Bring it!" as they blitzed towards each other. Courtesy of the kid's blessing, her several angles of attack had allowed her the upper hand in the early going.

But even for Arcturan Kung Fu black belts, for fights since her early teens, and for having two arms over one, her opponent hadn't shied away from carrying out his order. When she got in close he seized his chance; squirming about to stab a finger into her eye. As she yelled and tried to regain vision, a set of obsidian knuckles landed flush in her throat.

Losing her vision and then her breath, she was defenceless as he gripped her neck, skated about the ice, and slammed her face into the cavern walls, hard & often. A large, ugly grin as chunks of ice came loose, before he almost embedded her into the other side. Never thought he'd be a great spear-thrower, never a better time to find out.

She couldn't even push up for recovery, before she felt her boot grabbed, and her body swung above his head. Face pounding into the ground, further cracks and splits into the surface, before he dunked her head into the waters.

Far from choosing to drown though, Clobberella had used the ice water to relieve her eye, to take her time in coming up with a plan. Bloodhound didn't enjoy the live feedback that he could've, so when he lifted her for a closer look, he was confused for the evil smile across her lips.

"Why must you beg for another pounding? Just die already!"

"I don't beg, Bloodhound… I deliver."

A cock of her fist, and a bullseye punch into his crown jewels. Any other time, the nuclear force might've ended his life; instead, Bloodhound's face turned inward as he crashed to the ice. No way—no matter the brainpower—was he getting up anytime soon.

But for all the time spent searching for secrets, the ice wall to trap them inside still hadn't moved…

Satisfied for the devastating blow she'd dealt, Clobberella took the opportunity to depth charge into the icy waters, a human torpedo hunting for an opening. Caught herself a lucky break in looking around; turned out that getting slammed about the ice had loosened a passage to swim through.

Moments after surfacing into a new chamber, she found the cause for her problem. What Bloodhound had told her of spinning gears and impossible countdowns had instead been projected on by a climate-proof camera & screen. A cheap but effective illusion, obscuring the puzzle of having to assemble them all before the green all-clear, and true hour-long countdown, could be initiated.

 _"Gotta give you credit, fat man… You really have thought of everything."_

Nonetheless, and courtesy of great haste, visual footage and no disruptions, she spent virtual minutes putting the pieces together; satisfying sounds to hear upon completion and a button push. The minutes ticked by as she grabbed her cream again, rubbing down for feeling her powers run their course.

Fifty-five, fifty... A few shakes of the head, who was she kidding about arriving home?

Forty-five, forty… A rub across her neck; perhaps she could believe again.

Thirty-five, thirty… A slow pump of fists; seemed that all had been won…

Her reality was checked though when in entered Bloodhound, beyond enraged for the sudden cross. Speeding through and taking her by surprise, he slid about, slipped under and seized her boot, dragging her along for a swim. Screams of struggle in his ears, before she slipped from his grasp.

On equal footing again, and for floating lighter than rag-dolls, Clobberella had gotten right back on the offensive. One thing the kid hadn't known in forever was the sense—or similar, at least—of being in zero-gravity, a situation Leela had known too well while delivering besides her crew.

When she WAS able to chase him down, she brought out her arsenal of collar-and-elbows (emphasis elbows), Muay Thai knees, and boxing body blows… The heroine did whatever she could to tame that dog after her, but far from dropping tail between his legs, Bloodhound had only bared teeth, and soon his devious finger-wag, towards her.

A moment she realised all too late as the water now froze her body stiff, as the sudden intake had her blow bubbles in gasping for breath. For the frozen climates, the Miracle Cream had spent itself trying to chase down her enemy and keep her fighting; now she thrashed about just thirty seconds or so from gurgling her last.

She'd have been such a corpse, another victim of rough waters, before the beast in Bloodhound rounded about to seize her over his shoulder. Much more crystal-clear than the 'kill her' order had been the 'destroy Clobberella' part…

In case her friends came back for her, the beast knew he couldn't leave an intact body behind.

Wasn't long before they both surfaced back in the original chamber, before Bloodhound tossed her aside and stalked her in approach. Already a sizeable gap through the ice wall, but even for Clobberella scrambling to escape, she couldn't avoid the beast grabbing her hair, forcing a face-to-face.

"Pleading for small mercies, resenting your command, spitting on my efforts… All these months I've waited, wishing for our balance to shift."

"All Zookeeper's done is play your pretend hero; call me crazy, but that's easy when you can insert yourself into one's story!"

Bloodhound paid her no heed, as he flattened her back and stomped on her wrist. Crushed to splinters, she could only pitch a scream while blood began to spurt.

"And that applied to me how? Did I ever get the chance, when you left me fighting for life every week?"

Crushing her other wrist this time, she could only lash a vengeful kick of pain into his back, leaving him unmoved.

"You really think you can believe a 'friend' who had to recast himself, just to earn your trust? Ours was borne of respect, and you know it!"

The ice wall had dropped three-quarters down when he recreated Admiral's beating; stomping over her feet. Bloodhound's corruption had left him as good as lost, and it seemed that Zookeeper would've been getting his wish after all.

But the biggest wrench of such came in the form of his most unlikely defector… The Admiral.

No longer fighting back or receiving orders from his fast-asleep master, The Admiral was given guarded permission to investigate the chamber's growing gap. The moment he found his 'commanding officer' begin turning his girlfriend into mince-meat, was the moment he broke free and raced for The Bloodhound.

And if there were ever thoughts that he'd been lying back in his private quarters…

Bloodhound had found himself seized around the waist and slammed down, where lacking prototype or no, none could deny the effect of Admiral's angrier or better combat. Lessons were bound to be learnt, enjoying the company he did for all those years.

The noises, strikes, yells and curses coming from within had caught Kif's attention; he soon ordered those reserves trailing Fry to get in there. About half a dozen in all; Bloodhound raced out the chamber and disappeared into the night.

There'd be a better time to carry out his order, far as he was concerned.

Once a poor, embarrassed Private dug his hand inside to retrieve the cream, it wasn't long before she'd been revived from the living dead, before she'd lead them to the mechanism where the new vial had finished mixing.

A few breaths between them all as the true clock had wound down; hours of craziness, involving puzzles, fights, philosophy, and survival, had led up to this.

Grabbing the new vial as carefully as she could, and tucking it good and snug in her outfit, Clobberella would then receive word that, following lair raids and schematic studies, the cloning machine had been figured out.

 _"The final package I hope to deliver, oh Lord please, in this chapter of my life."_


	50. Just the Two of Us (6E)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
** **This particular chapter contains explicit sexual content. P** **lease be warned of such, before proceeding.**

* * *

 **Chapter 51:**

 **Just the Two of Us**

* * *

To say nothing of the lady who handed her prize, got herself warmed up, and then wandered off alone, even the best of any being could've felt as though they'd aged years in these hours alone.

And despite knowing that his men had rounded up and arrested Zookeeper's minions, despite knowing that cures in place of curses were being distributed, DOOP's temporary General had felt the same. A few final orders to give; to capture and cure both Bloodhound and Admiral, to tighten Zookeeper's lips in order to prevent orders, and to protect Clobberella upon failing capture, knowing Bloodhound's order was still active.

For all those and more, he didn't dare believe that the day was won just yet.

"General Kroker, we await your orders."

"At ease, men. Keep collecting those vials, and as for The Admiral, fetch a cure at once. If he refuses, force them, by any means necessary."

As Admiral cursed a sailor's streak for being yanked back, the soldiers readied the syringe to shoot the green-and-gold liquid right down his gullet. For an uncomfortable while, all he did do was squirm, drop to the ground and scream, as if a thousand Suns burned his insides.

But just as they feared the worst, the ginger hair came into view. The white-and-blue jumpsuit, in its flared collar glory, came to wash. The bright yellow cape to his platforms… Piece by piece, that Dutch Elm disease of sorts had receded, until it sapped completely from his body.

And if he hadn't been assured of his humanity before, then the return of true memories, at least in certain parts, had convinced him of the good Captain's return.

"What is this strange feeling? My mind, my heart, my whole body—it all feels so… so light. What's going on around here?"

"Captain Yesterday, I presume?"

"Kif? Good grief, what are you doing here? Isn't Zapp Brannigan supposed to be leading?"

"The jackass's under house arrest, no need to worry. Though in an ideal world, I'd have dug a cold hole in the sewers."

"And you've taken over? Good grief, what'd he do to light DOOP's fuse, after all these years?"

"You'd be dead before I got through the list. Speaking of health, are you feeling okay? No dizziness, no erratic heartbeats, no other signs?"

"Pretty sure I'm doing fine, but if you insist that I get a check-up, well—"

He turned his head past the crowd of soldiers cleaning up, and caught his eyes on that mound of purple hair. The knees began to knock, the heart pumped bullet-fast, and his face had gasped after lining with sweat.

"Second thoughts Kif, never mind… I think I've found my cure."

Such warmth and lightness continued to bloom as he snuck towards Clobberella, seen stood up and staring into her unmasked reflection. One to not cry, but for fear of calling it early, dare not crack a smile either. Knowing her look from anywhere, the good Captain had soon appeared right by her side, just gently clapping her shoulder.

 _"Close your eye, Clobberella."_

"The hell would I do that for?"

 _"Because I think we're dreaming, and just want to be sure."_

"If that's who I think it sounds like… But how do I know it's you?"

 _"I'll be saving that for a special someone… Just to make sure though, close your eye and follow my lead. Fingers crossed it'll all make sense."_

More light beats to lift him, the voice of his beloved Captain in his ears. So wanted to speak out, but found his mouth run dry, unsure of the words.

Walking, walking, walking; soon found themselves quite alone in the puzzle chamber.

 _"May your next vision be reality… Open up."_

When she caught a glimpse, she almost dropped on her ass, her heart and hands in jolts. Giving her eye some vigorous rubs, the goose-bumps for seeing his face, after all this time, had begun rising up her arm.

"Fry?"

To her high-pitched call, he stayed unsure that his world had changed. But he grew confident once his platform shoes met her thin-heeled boots, his gloves gripped her own, and they soon touched bodies. A firm grip, and a long stare to soak in.

"Leels?"

She gave tender rubs of his ridges and bumps, he that milky soft skin and moistened eyeball he treasured. She reached to tousle his hair, he to cradle hers, as they continued getting lost into each other's eyes.

"I-i-i-is my eye playing trick on me?"

"To quote of true magic once more… Abracadabra, baby. Want to go around again?"

Her eye rolling upward as she palmed her mouth, Leela's knees could only buckle for realising the moment of reunion. Eye stinging as watery as being poked there, she soon rose to her feet, choked out a jubilant cry, and let her hug bulldoze him to the ice. A flood of tears to salt their outfits, instead of carpets or bedsheets.

The most painful book of her, his and Planet Express's life, crazy as it could've sounded, had finally closed.

No whisper of a word since, just a chance to lay there and hug each other close. In this crystallising of time, that was how those lovers said it best.

Soon arm-in-arm as they walked about, they didn't notice Super King counting ill-gotten gains—from Privates' pockets—until he noticed his one true friend. Far and away from the tyrant he had yearned, and sometimes succeeded, to be, he had squealed in steaming towards him.

"Meatbag! It's me, it's Bender, your best-ever buddy… Get ready, 'cause here I come!"

And there he went alright; proving his words back at Bellevue, a deft dodge from Captain Yesterday had sent all 500-plus pounds of His Highness flopping into the frozen waters. As King scrambled and splashed to get out, he earned only a frown from his once-frozen companion.

"You know what you did King, you know why you deserved to feel the chill."

Once Super King rolled back onto ice, he just sighed and unclasped his sodden cape, took off his mask, and laid down his crown. A kneel before the two heroes, trying to put the past behind him.

"In lieu of regrets that I'll forget soon… You're right, buddy. In our finest hours, I was a fraud. A cowardly, sexy fraud who deserved better. I've no pride in what I did, despite it being the right call… Could you ever forgive me?"

A chuckle from Clobberella: "Damn, that's as close to sincere as you're ever going to get."

It took a little more coaxing to convince Captain Yesterday, but as the moment dawned on him as well, he cried "Aw, what the heck!" and caught them all into a firm hug. All problems forgiven, and for a while, no dares to let go.

"Hope you guys don't mind, but I've got a little chat to have. I'll call you if needed."

With New Justice Team members right behind, Captain Yesterday had soon found Zookeeper, now woken up, red-faced, well-restrained and well-gagged. A gleeful grin as he stretched knuckles, remembering the truth about Zookeeper, and watching those eighteen months wither away…

"Well, it looks like you're MINE to own now."

A series of inaudible yells, before Zookeeper tried to lunge forward. All to no avail, being generous about it.

"All the total crap you fed me, and now such irony's mine to deliver… Mmm-mmm-MMM! No-one to deserve it more, than the person who cheated me out of happiness, love, life and freedom."

No doubt because of betrayal, a sound of command tried to escape Archbury's lips… Not even close, as the Captain met his eyes.

"And all because of a stupid Gemerald, when you had everything already… A pursuit towards perfection, and look how you kneel now. The servant becomes the master, and the master, the servant."

Zookeeper tried to bust out of his restraints, and again, no dice.

"Tearing my friends away from me, locking me in that awful cell, having me obey your every order, forcing me to murder and torture innocents… So help me Gods, I'd find no greater pleasure on Earth than to make custard of your face, leave you limbless like you once left our prisoners."

Virtually got nose-to-nose before The Zookeeper gave a small headbutt. A little dazed as they pinned him down, Captain smiled once he cleared the stars, and gave a small cheek-slap.

"You know what, I'll allow you that cheap shot. After all, it's perhaps the last one you're ever gonna lay in a long, LONG time. See you soon 'boss', don't go anywhere now."

Meeting back among crew, Clobberella just laid her head into his shoulder, still reeling as the Captain gently righted her, a laugh stifled all the while.

"Now now, my love, don't get too sentimental on me… I know it's our finest hour, but,"—he pointed to the restrained villain—"he's all yours, if you want the honours."

Never a more malevolent grin she could've given. Daresay homicidal, as she pecked Fry on the cheek and began to massage her knuckles. No promises that she'd even leave him alive for arrest, even for letting her powers run out. She was going to enjoy these next minutes, and no mistake.

"Evening officers, no introductions necessary… Just stand him up, untie him, and get out of my way."

They having done so, it was seconds before she slammed her high-heeled stiletto into his gut, a stab to double him over.

"All this time I've waited for this…"

He couldn't even cough for the gag, as the heroine paced about.

"Every single delivery, every single day, every single month, I couldn't escape, couldn't run, couldn't hide from you… And now, I finally get to embrace the end of you."

Laid quite a few more boots into him, as his wetworks began to leak. Could only give a frantic headshake, his cheeks wobbling, which only earnt him a laugh and evil eye.

"Oh, you believe you weren't responsible? Honey, please, let me show you how."

Anything in reach, and nothing sacred; fist after fist in his face & jaw, constant stands and sweeps to his back, repeated stomps over his hands & ankles… The beginnings of the no-holds-barred beatdown he never imagined she'd deliver.

In seeing her warm up, Captain Yesterday grabbed Super King for a front-row seat, a rub of his hands to go…

"A little popcorn, a couple drinks, a chair and a camera… What do you say old buddy? Want to record this for old times' sake?"

"And a cigar, don't forget a good cigar… Now that sounds like fun on the bun!"

As the boys munched and toasted—and King smoked—to new triumphs, Leela continued to lay down her ultimate life lesson. Punches, kicks, slaps, eye-pokes, low blows, throat shots, and even her share of orphan-made curb stomps courtesy of their allies.

Then came the words, or rather actions, she laughed to hear; Zookeeper's snivelling at her feet for mercy. A plea she denied dead-cold after another thump in the throat.

"Mercy? Sorry Reggie, been fresh out these past eighteen months."

"Hey babe, hey hey, stop it, stop one second!"

"WHAT?!"

"You're blocking our view! Could you whack 'em from the other side, please?"

"Oh Lord, was that all? Damn you Captain, I thought you wanted it to end! Sure, no problem."

After all, needed the better footage to place the New Justice Team back on the map. If ripping apart one of the universe's greatest threats to date hadn't done it, what would?

It became an eternity of sorts before an exhausted, extremely satisfied cry of "I'm finished!" had Clobberella return to her friends. In her wake, a bloodied, broken and blubbering bad guy, carted away to face another kind of justice.

At least before she remembered the footage of the torture chamber, and had an idea come to mind. Let the kid, in a sense, get his licks in too. She made another approach, and he let loose another fresh wave of tears.

"Relax Fat-Boy, I've got my fill now. But if I may borrow your sing-song words for a bit…"

She eyed and nodded towards the super-soldiers dragging him along.

"Reggie, Reggie… Here comes a wedgie!"

Had to squirm, look away and break out into giggles upon hearing that rip. Once the criminal was led out, she would walk together as leader of her reunited crew, towards the approaching winter winds of that now glorious city nightscape. Almost two years, since she called it 'hero wind.'

The Captain had hunched down: "So now what? Think I'd just want to go home after this…"

"Are you kidding meatbag?! I'm gonna re-open my Col-lege of Par-ty Knowledge, and hell, I might hand out some free lessons." His Highness began to boot up his dance circuits right then.

"I don't know Captain, perhaps we could enjoy a very different waltz to dance?"

Feeling her finger across the chest, he knew good and well there'd be no going home right now.

The lonely ages spent on delivery, governance and overthrow had them grow a great deal older & harder. But in this moment, this brand new night, separate ways after the pursuit of reunion had made things that much more special.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

"My goodness, since when did you get so strong?"

"For minutes like these, I'd move mountains for you."

As she squeezed tight, so that none could prise them apart, Fry had laughed and fumbled up her stairs, praying like a priest that he didn't drop her. Floor after floor, smiles all the way, to his favourite apartment of all. Course, confusion and red faces for the busted door before them.

"What in the? How did this—"

"Whoever did that, I'll kill them!"

A scan about the place for clues, but when Leela found the evidence of that broken cardboard box, she immediately knew. A small shrug, before just pushing her recliner into the gap.

"On second thought, who cares? We can worry about that in the morning… _Now, where were we again?"_ Another grip of hands, another delighted fit.

"Good question my love… Ohhh, I think I remember."

Before that fateful call, this was the fairytale finale they always wanted. And now, it was theirs.

They clicked on that Hoverdisk album, and there they would sit, chilled glasses of champagne as the melodies, saxes and serenades of Just the Two of Us carried them away. Even for the messy hair, sweaty skin and sharp odours, it didn't matter…

They could see each other's true eyes, the prize they fought forever for.

"So what was it like, Fry? I believe Thomas told you my story, but you never told me yours."

"You seriously want a list? 24/7 slavery, a constant drip-feed of 'stories' and 'evidence', a grooming to be his greatest creation, and threats to your lives if I kept disobeying him. A virus personally designed to manipulate me, which I could never save myself or you guys from."

Hands in his head, he felt himself pulled into another hug, no words for some time. Those maternal ways again, as senses of relief started to sweep over.

"And to think you never quit on us, when this one-eyed 'Wonder Woman' humoured the idea. I wouldn't know many, to suffer as you did. At least now you're back; perhaps we can enjoy those tender embraces, those gentle touches again."

She linked into his arms, gave a cheers, and drank, a laugh for trying to balance her glass as he did. Her head huddled into his chest, staring into his eyes, hearing that heartbeat of a pygmy mouse.

No fear of any love lost, to say the least.

"To get those gifts, your words, that dance, and such hope… You don't know how much that drove me forward."

Just then, a perfectly-timed sweetener of tidy flutes, beautiful brass blares, and Teddy Pendergrass at his silky-smooth best had pierced the room. The hints to 'close the door' had stirred their hearts, the romance of such had stood them up to dance.

Fry had pretended to sing, his full focus on caressing her cheek, embracing her from behind, smiling as he kissed her hand. Brushing hair behind her ears, they began their gentle approach while gazing into each other.

Took only a moment for her rose-pink lips to meet his; their first true kiss. One to take them past the event horizon of passion, to engage their lips in a facial, full-frontal assault.

Leela soon led her lover into that holy of holies, a slow strip of her costume tempting him forward. Despite his hopping about in taking off that jumpsuit, they soon laid head-to-toe naked, eye-to-eyes, on her king single bed.

For thinking about Leela, and for memories of that erotic show, Fry had now laid there, more 'perked up' than anything his century of coffees could do.

"Oooohhhh, I didn't think you missed me that much. _So, who's the hero & villain?"_

 _"Show me YOUR evil side… Got a taste courtesy of The Zookeeper, and I so crave more."_

 _"Careful what you wish for, boy."_

Climbing aboard his waist, she kept him pinned to the sheets, before taking time to bend forward.

Gods-given blessings soon pressed across his sternum, as she gripped a shoulder with one hand, and cradled her chin in the other. Already a blush on his cheeks, a goofy eager grin for what was to happen.

 _"Welcome to my sanctum Captain… My fine little honey trap, for naïve sorts like you."_

 _"Trap nothing, Fatale! In the crime of love, you're the worst crook I know… Come quietly, or face consequences."_

 _"Oh I'm not coming on your say-so… Think you'll ever defeat me, in my own home?"_

 _"The hero always conquers the villain… Comics 101!"_

 _"More like Reality 101… I won't deny that your powers are great, but…"_

Following glints of evil lust and hopeful fear, between banter and bold claims, she rose up and untied her headband, allowing that bouffant to cascade down her back. A lover's shiver for that purple silk, and a playful _"Hands off"_ as he reached to touch it. No corrupted memories here, that was for sure.

Another lean forward as she rubbed down every curve & crevice, her smooth hands repeatedly massaging from his neck to his core. Another great view, as she turned to tease his toes & thighs, moving closer yet denying his 'friend' all the while.

A repeat of that childhood game, this time bringing out the fingernails. A routine to fire off quivers and throbs just about everywhere, as her voice barely carried above a whisper.

 _"Mine are greater… MUCH greater."_

 _"The devil damn you… You won't tempt me so easily!" Knew that had been a lie, as he plummeted_ deeper and deeper into that intoxicating well.

 _"Oh no you don't!"_ she snickered, restraining his wrists. _"Turnabout's fair play, Captain, and so help me, I'm going to take my time…"_

Used to be that it was two and through for the couple, and more to one's benefit than both. But even a basement virgin could now tell the 'vas deferens' between them then, and now. Serious urges aside, Fry knew he wanted nothing else after her private show. His great sacrifice, no greater risk taken, and then his greatest reward had… Until now, obviously.

 _"Do you even remember my secret crutch? You really believe you'll be victorious over me again?"_

 _"Oh really? You dare ask me that, Fatale?"_

From her a scornful laugh, but one she couldn't 'enjoy' as he sat bolt upright to ravage her face in smooches. A moment of 'distraction', to trigger shivers through her body. An opportunity to toss her to her own bed, top mount her in seconds, and then lean in to give his tiny pecks, nibbles & licks.

Across the forehead & cheeks, on the ears, the nape of her neck… Striking perfect on those sweet spots, before he let fingers stroke down below. A little stir and tease, that soon sent her eye darting in every direction.

Any pretence of a quite night had gone as whispered moans became screams, as he worked down to her breasts. More than a starved child to its mother, he soon pounced and nibbled on those nipples; sucks and licks that grew harder and more often while she fought against every carnal desire she could.

"How did you know?!"

"You kidding, my sweet? No matter how long we're apart, I'll always know…"

As Leela continued to express a more approving "Oh Lord!" than usual, she thought about reclaiming territory before she felt that tongue slide beneath. Now up and down her chiselled centre mass, any system of hers that one could name had been left to spasm and jolt in ecstasy.

Abdominals began to buckle, her legs kicked out in reflex, her chest started to shudder… And right before he put the word evolve in 'e-vulva.'

As his tongue travelled the clitoris, he hummed a little Star Trek—to boldly go, and all. A delicate exploration up, down, and around every corner of her 'Caverns on the Cream', that soon had her gripping sheets, biting lips, and stumbling headlong into states of bliss. The 'St. Fry's Fire' that crackled her hand back at Bellevue, had now spread to electrify her body.

Once he was done handcuffing her as such, she began to plead for chances to tongue-kiss, just to enjoy her taste of defeat… A bad mistake of Fry's to acquiesce; her strength had 'returned' enough to grip his throat, a sinful eye to go.

"Very dirty trick of yours, Captain! I thought you were too noble for that."

"All for truth, justice and the Earthican way, by God! Hero or not, I never promised to be good."

"So you wanna be obliged, do you? I'll teach you to lecture me on evil!"

Tossing him back to the sheets, one hand planted on his throat, she shuffled through her bedside tables to find four flavoured bottles of lube. The choices before her, as she picked them one-by-one…

Strawberry; vibrant sweetness to the tongue. Apple; juicy treats in more ways than one. Watermelon; summer snack for munching or slopping. Vanilla last; perfect base for homemade topping.

Posing like an Amazonian statue of ancient days, she took her time to drizzle the strawberry, the cool gel leaving him a chattering mess. For that calm, smooth jerk of his Johnson Fry often preceded their sly grins and his pillow grab.

Even over a year apart, he knew what this led to…

"Kid gloves are off now, baby. Get ready to know evil's truest form!"

After a sudden yank to the bed's edge, and her viper's flicker to have him clench fists, she let her tongue tease their best friend of all. For all the snakes she'd seen, dated and charmed since Cookieville; complete impossibilities to rare men, she knew for certain that she'd never love anyone else.

First came the twirls, twists & tickles, as he kept her hair brushed back. Then the dragging of nails, the tiny bites of his tip, a cheek slap while it poked inside. Up-and-down samples like ears of corn. A round-the-world tour, before she exposed the sack to nibble the tender bits.

For such mastery, Fry only had violent whiplashes rock his neck & body, a fight between himself and eruptive temptation that he grew closer to losing…

"She cannae take any more Cap'n… Keep pushin' her any harder, she's gonna blow! Hooohhhh… she's gonna… Mmmmmph!"

Then she stopped, relishing such total control over him.

"Argh, damn you!"

"You're only ready when I SAY you're ready!"

Easing and edging him away, she grabbed herself a condom and slipped it over, a smile to see him pulsing through rubber. Another generous dollop of lube, and soon a chance to retake some classic 'drive-stick' lessons.

Up, down, up, down… A steady rhythm at first, as they took turns dictating the pace. Soon the ride grew wilder & louder; on normal days, that would mean evasive manoeuvres, or emergency landings…

"Ready to have your fate sealed, hero?"

"Never, I shall not quit!"

"We'll see about that, little sunshine."

Quite the share of tongue to go as she kissed him, before she turned that statuesque figure to lower her pearl, purple tuft and all, over his face. The Grand Finale, finally in play.

His hands to work her thighs, hers to cradle his cobra. His licks to grow quicker, her sucks to sink deeper. After each kiss of her clit, her tongue would stroke while she jerked. Subtly, she rolled his rubber, discarded it, and let him go for broke.

Following loud screams from both, the gates of heaven had opened as Fry let almost two entire years of forced abstinence do the talking, while Leela lavished his face with the liquors of her love.

A relative draw of sorts, perhaps the best result they could've hoped for. Some brand new sheets and couple showers later, and they were soon caught in panting sighs, throbbing bodies and curling toes.

"Ahhhhhh, that was amazing… So Fry, was I as good as you remembered?"

"Not at all, my Captain," he sighed, to a concerned eye. "You're WORLDS better."

Flashing him a coy smile, she shifted down to lay her head across his chest. Knowing there was nothing now to spoil this moment, she bid him a final kiss and drifted off.

"Well saved back there. Good night, my dumb prince…"


	51. Matters to Settle (6E)

**Chapter 52:**

 **Matters to Settle**

* * *

While the city's original hero couple could hug each other tight, their ordeal had proven far from over.

Though unaware of his state-wide manhunt, Bloodhound had found himself returning to Leela's apartment, the lights all switched off. Still white-hot on his mind, he knew he hadn't carried out his order, and so took his time to slip through the door, float in tip-toes upstairs to avoid those potential power struggles again.

Back at Apartment 1I, her remembered his first-ever face-to-face before getting a good grip on the recliner, savouring the cave-in to come. But as he found her snoring on some ginger fellow's chest, a DOOP super-soldier had crept from behind to rip the recliner from his hands. Giving a whisper of _"We got it, ma'am",_ the minion's mouth was cupped, his body was seized, and he was dragged back outside, kicking out and screaming all the while.

Though the commotion and recliner thuds had the two wake, begging to kick some ass, they knew they could now rely on DOOP to do the best job. A care-free shrug between the lovers, as they soon returned to sleep.

"Hound has been leashed, I repeat, Hound has been leashed. Bring the pine-lime, pronto."

Bloodhound, his focus spent on resisting his latest foe, had no hope for the sudden ambush to come. As uncordial as they pleased, the three tough types had kept him restrained as they yanked his neck back, soon firing that green-and-gold stream straight down his throat.

Remembering how The Admiral once reacted, they performed a few finger-flicks of their own to put the creature to sleep. Their orders of 'capture and cure' complete, and now no longer fearing for loss of civilian life, the three elite units took off to await further orders.

Good odds had on distributing further cures around Earth, maybe even their planetary detention centre. Crossing fingers, the events of these last months would soon be just a forgotten memory…

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Rising from the sidewalk as if he woke from an autopsy, Mayfield had only shades of memories regarding his first night in New New York.

Starting from how he laid here; the confused walks, the scream, the confrontation, the beatdown… Instinct was to cover his mouth, an especially wise decision once his eyes caught more unpleasant discoveries.

 _"Ugghhh, ohhh man… SWEET SHIT TO SAINTHOOD, what happened to my arm?!"_

Scrambled backwards into the apartment, and soon started to look over what he wore…

 _"Good God this thing's hideous! Where's the Elton John wannabe drongo who's responsible? Swear I'd be a dead man for walking in it!"_

Dragged himself down the wall, and as his arm seized his head, he suddenly realised why. Was the exact spot he sat in, for realising he no longer had a job, or a reason to remain. Started to chain the links up; his coronation of sorts involved this same outfit he wore, so figured he might've had friends close enough to strip somewhere…

Taking off his boots, he crept back up the stairs and through the apartment, where the '1I' called out to him again. This time he ended up in their recreation room, more memories of some huge upcoming battle piercing into his skull. The dead-cold refusal at first, the sudden change of heart, the tornado he became to become the Battler…

As quiet as he could, he grabbed every last piece of his apparel and crept out, getting changed once he reached the bottom of the stairs. Neatly folding his old hero outfit and leaving it offside, he then disappeared out the front door, perhaps never to return.

The shuffle had given off bitter airs as his hunched self trudged through, the kid now facing more questions and having less answers as to the life ahead of him. Of what he did remember, he had even LESS to show for whatever adventures he had.

Kicking those old newspapers towards the winds, or having his share of odd street encounters, he would eventually wind up right back where he started… The Orphanarium, just as much a condemned hole as it had always been.

Another flash in his eyes, soon a wry smile for it all. To think the roads dusting at his feet had begun his walk towards so-called paradise, to think he had sown just seeds of shame as he glanced upon that peeling paint, those barren fields, and the broken windows once more.

But as he rubbed hands across the stone bricks, and breathed in that familiar odour, he lightened a little for what stood over his oldest jacket.

 _"Ohhhh, I never deserved her…"_

Sudden remembrance for the cyclopean woman to enter his life. The chance she gave that raised him back up, gave his fresh reset, and renewed that little hope into something virile and luscious. Only hoped he had repaid whatever had been owed, as he sat alone thinking of the flawless starfield to greet him.

Only an old—daresay ancient—associate stopped his train of thought cold.

"Quite the sight to enjoy this early, isn't it?"

"Agghhh, who the hell are—" Mayfield stopped himself, took a closer peek. The memories of why he'd been brought here, and how he ended up in this creature's sights, had started to come back.

"Lord Nibbler? Hey, about time you showed your arse 'round here! I'd been meaning to have a word about this little experiment of ours… Like, I don't know, how I'm missing my friggin' arm!"

"Give yourself some time and encounters, young Mayfield, and everything will again make sense. Speaking of our experiment, I've seen everything of your deeds for up to now… Suffice to say, you've done fine just as I thought you would."

"Is that so? Sure doesn't look it from my end. Still, I'm sure you've gone and convinced me somehow, so I'll hold off judgement."

"It may not look it now, but you'll realise why I've placed such pride in you, soon enough."

"Sure can't claim whatever you're offering… Can't help but think that everyone's been saving my arse out there… So, what brings you here now?"

"I wished to express my empathies in person, given word of your redundancy. You've also got my respects and gratitude for all your efforts—without them, the universe may have faced its gravest dangers."

"Good grief, slow down! All I cared about was trying to survive this future, I've never wanted to be anybody's hero. Course these days, I'm not sure I even have the means anymore."

"Believe us, we've messed up your life enough. For how you came to us now, we certainly didn't leave you like that. In fact, on mine and my people's honour, I shall find a way to repay your efforts."

"Maybe a million bucks would be—"

"Just say the word and it's yours."

That had Mayfield thinking hard, if not looking in disbelief: "Holy shit, you're serious?"

"Do I sound like I'm lying?"

"Uh, on second thought…" Mayfield looked back to the stars above. "Maybe you don't have what I really want."

"Search your heart then... What do you most desire, right now?"

Mayfield thought of the friends to have forgotten him, of the job he hadn't been good for, of his purpose to fade away. But twinkling well above that and whatever else, there was another thing.

"Truth is, the only people I've ever loved are gone. I tried and got nowhere figuring this city and its people out, so please tell me… My family, whatever happened to them?"

"In what context do you speak of?"

"What other context, since you've known so much about my life? Though I've somehow been so lucky, do you understand mortality like I do? In all this surviving, I never had time to grieve how they, for all I knew, died as resentful shells of themselves. I was the 'baby' to waste his life, disgrace their names and send them away… You say I've redeemed myself, I say not to those who mattered most."

A sage nod to follow, as Mayfield tried to fight back tears.

"Ah, I understand. Sadly, I'm not sure how I can help you."

Mayfield had found himself shaking; fear and rage stirring within.

"Why can't you? You mind telling me who the hell broke us up then?! Better yet, why they never let me communicate to tell them I was okay?"

"You've a right to be angry, but consider this. Did you really want to involve them in your galaxy-spanning wars and grudges? This world's already enough of a challenge without such targets on your back."

"Yeah, lost pieces finding out, so valid point there. I guess it just would've been nice, that's all."

"Besides, I'm sure wherever they are now, they've seen how you've done magnitudes more for yourself and their name. They can be at peace now, if the thought is of any comfort."

"Yeah, I sure would hope so… So now what?"

"Well, I've got to return to work, and you… Are you going to return home?"

"Can't, last bus has already left. Though now that you put the idea in mind…"

He had the money to remain riverside for a month or so, but he wasn't sure about wanting to. Only so many books, games, lanes or dinosaurs he could enjoy, for all the downtime he now had.

"To be honest, I could use a change of scenery after all this."

"Well, if that's your decision… Where do you think you'll go?"

"My true home, if it's still around. You know the one. Guess I've a lot of thinking to do."

"That I certainly do.

"Could I get a small favour though? I mean, since I wouldn't want the place wasted."

He whispered a little into Nibbler's ear, getting only a thoughtful nod before he moved through the door.

Turning back to those stars, Mayfield could only point and hold a fist to his heart, a tribute to the family, and especially his Dad. People who never held the greatest cards growing up, but played them so well that they still enjoyed true loves of their own, still raised a solid family… Least for the most part.

Even the Royal Flushes, of what he knew then and now, couldn't brag of the same. After a final smile, feeling a little at peace, he rose back to his feet thinking of matters to settle.

Having felt like he needed one, first on his mind was an ideally quick shower in those former headquarters. A chance to get clean, grab his things, and go; better than getting escorted to the cannons.

Further blanks filling in as he stripped off in silence; a scour, scrub and soap up while enjoying small laughs to himself. To think he'd been so worried about what he once shared among crew. Once been as behind as a one-legged hurdler, nowadays, maybe a one-armed swimmer.

A clean shirt and pair of jeans to go with the jacket, as he stuffed everything else inside his travel bag. The chance was his to go ghost for good, but there was plenty he hadn't explored yet, that he knew he should've for old times' sake.

All those meetings at conference, the rare chatter inside the lounge, the warnings by the hidden gym, the preparations around the hangar… And after hand-prints on the doors, the contract signings and check-ups at each office.

Maybe one more view couldn't hurt…

One giveth and one taketh though; standing at the open lift, he found—of all people to be up—the Professor tinkering about. Once those memories flooded back, he'd been ready to reverse course and disappear, unsure of what he'd say.

At least before The Professor caught him in his sights, where quelle surprise, he had other ideas.

"Hey Maybanks, a word if you'll please?"

Gave him no word in reply, as he moved towards the Widow's Walk.

"Hello, earth to Mayberry, are you deaf? I said, a WORD if you'll please?"

A subtle groan, for it became unavoidable. Mayfield turned to face his former big boss, now sporting the oddest of grins.

"Why Professor, you can have two words from me if you like… Fuck you."

"What's the meaning of that?! I only wanted to discuss your role in this company."

"I'm sorry, my role? You made me redundant pal, you think I still owe you the time of day?"

"Well excuse me, I do tend to forget such things. How you came to know, I don't care, but sorry young man… We do have to let you go."

"Spare me your sorry apologies, you've never meant them anyway. Just tell me why, when I lost my limb, and almost my life, to help you achieve so much."

"For simple honesty's sake, it's to rehire my uncle Fry at severely reduced wages & tips, assuming he has come back. He never complained, he has two arms, his title's much fancier, and you know I can't pay two of you at once."

"If you ask for it, thou shalt receive… I complained because to give my thanks, I wanted and willed better things for this place. I'm still figuring out this arm thing, but it wouldn't surprise me if I lost it working with you. And titles? Appearances? I didn't need them to break company records. And you're seriously gonna sell me your 'two at once' bullshit? You just said you'd pay him far less!"

"You mean to tell me that I haven't been a good boss to you?"

"Absolutely, in fact, you WERE the thing to hold us all back! How you gambled our lives away, how you harassed and ignored your employees, how you squandered our funds and assets, whether on stupid projects or ridiculous whims…"

The Professor gave just a blank stare, as Mayfield wrapped up.

"Why should Mom worry when, for all our efforts planting seeds, you've done everything to stop us growing? Though I've no stake anymore within these walls, you'd all be better off for you stepping down."

Hit the same nerve right after his first delivery; The Professor grew riled enough to seize his shirt and get in his face.

"I might've had half a mind to hire you back, now I'd suggest you leave before I call your escorts!"

"Mate, you're not worth that effort of a signature again. And if you think you're gonna send me Sunward after all this, then you get this one warning… Stand down, take your hands off, and get out of my way."

"Or else what, Maynard?"

Without a change in eyes or mouth, the kid reached to place his large hand over Professor's grip, squeezing tight so that the cricks and cracks of bones could be heard.

Only once the old man gasped and yelled out, did he let go, did he begin to speak.

"Loud and clear now? Before you make a decision, remember my warning about your lab and those broken bones. I'm nobody's hero, but DON'T make me your villain, got it? Farewell."

Mayfield soon wandered off to the Widow's Walk, the new day dawning as he walked around and caught his old apartment in the distance. Knew he truly sunk his chances of working for Planet Express again, but grew quite settled as he closed his eyes and took in the memories. A little time spent before he disappeared back down the lift, ignoring his name being cursed.

All his business concluded, he hauled his bag and headed for the bus station, where before he left for good, he just needed another final taste of home.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Cooking up some breakfast in that top-floor palace, and getting so flooded with recalls he almost burnt his food, he set up his plate and turned on the TV, where wall-to-wall coverage of The Zookeeper's decades-long arrest had come to him live.

Already had hefty sentences lined up for his well-exposed criminal past, but when word got around of the tortures, scam charities, ransom demands and deadly wars to be instigated, the experts were unanimous in declaring a billion-year sentence, give or take a few zeroes. Earth might've been bereft of life, before he could 'escape.'

And for those responsible for Zookeeper's arrest, and the return of that prized Quantum Gemerald, their several encounters over the years were also covered in great detail. Though the memories really burned as he heard of the horrors Zookeeper subject him to, he calmed down as Linda shuffled her sheets and stared into the camera, her signature smile on display.

"Ladies, gentlemen, aliens of all creeds… Live from Los Angeles and broadcast around the galaxy, I'd like you to join us, this hour on Root 2 News, to thank the New Justice Team and DOOP for stopping our universe's most dangerous crook yet. Their efforts shall never be forgotten."

"Zookeeper was hardly a challenge… MORBO DEMANDS THE NEW JUSTICE TEAM!"

A small chuckle for the idea, and a plan to switch off and get travel plans started before the next headline flashed on screen. The old DOOP Headquarters, not even a half-hour walk, where there'd be just an hour before a white-outfitted, green alien would be led in handcuffs. According to reports, Nixon had made good on his threats, and rumours were rife for the alien's termination.

Another memory searing in once he got a good look, Mayfield slapped his recliner and stood straight up. Straight out to the balcony, and a grip of that titanium bannister.

"No way in hell am I going to allow that… There'd truly be no justice in the world, if they kicked him out on his arse."

Placing his plate in the sink and leaving his things behind, he trekked his way downstairs and towards that courthouse, hoping he wouldn't bump into those former colleagues of his.

Did try to kill them, and certainly more than once, after all.


	52. Justice Served (6E)

**Chapter 53:**

 **Justice Served**

* * *

For rarely seeing a sadder state of affairs than these DOOP Headquarters, Mayfield could've imagined being seated at that grand opening. Surrounded by the stars and strange beings; appreciative of the spectacle, hopeful for futures both his and theirs.

Instead, he found himself climbing cracked steps just to ease himself through those doors, fearful that sudden moves would tear them off the hinges. Several seats had fast been filled; a crowd of hundreds—soldiers, recent cures, administrators & ambassadors—had already filed in.

 _"Shouldn't have been surprised, oughta be the trial of the century."_

Taking a curious glimpse around the courthouse, he soon looked about in panic, snatching a middle-row seat. The entire Planet Express crew had arrived to take their front-row seats, led by the lady he almost caved in just hours ago.

Once the lone spotlights had shone on Kif, the condemned one in his custom garb, and on Glab, DOOP President and presiding judge, the crowd had begun to fall silent. Loud thuds of her gavel, and court was now in session.

"Fourth Lieutenant Kif Kroker, you stand before us accused of disobeying, and striking, your superior officer on official duties regarding the DOOP. Shall I regard the potential actions we may sanction against you?"

"Please do, ma'am."

"Very well. In order of severity, we could quite possibly consider a reprimand, a demotion, a fully-stripped dishonourable discharge, a jail sentence, and finally execution. Barring extraordinary circumstances, one or more of these WILL be enacted this morning. Any questions before we continue?"

"Not at all ma'am, thank you."

"How do you plead your case?

"I declare myself guilty of those charges, Your Honour, but may I speak as to why?"

"You may rise, Kroker."

Giving a summary of his ten-year tenure under Zapp, with particular highlights from the few months before, Kif laid out his case that began from his recent R&R, and by extension his first date in years. One to bring along a Zapp-like 'security detail'; more for attitude and personality, over size.

A one-sided war of words, personal attacks & demands, before he imposed himself over his girlfriend. A back-alley fight declared, one where he wound up beaten, his mind yet again broken. A harsh declaration that he'd never save himself, his loved ones or this entire planet, for how little fight he had. Those would happen to kick off a comeback that left the wannabe tough guy in agony.

Few days later, turned out they were hired crew who cooked up a ruse, with both testing and wishing his ability to lead as the 'Cologne Plague' broke out. As such plans were laid out, General Zapp would buzz him—lying in blood, mucus & vomit—to issue a direct order of cleaning him up. After name-calling, bragging and threats of retribution for denying HIM over DOOP, it was only then that Kif unleashed his outburst.

For the coming negotiations with President Nixon, he compiled thick dossiers of evidence, while trying to avoid them being spilled or knocked out of his hands. Even better, Zapp called ahead to the White House to derail the whole scheme; only diplomacy, searing questions and timely news coverage had Nixon reconsider.

The crowd were roused enough to chatter among themselves, and the soldiers had pumped fists in silent approval. Planet Express, however hopeful, had to stifle some yawns… They'd admit to wanting Zapp to punch the tale up, if he didn't bottle his odours and call them perfume.

After some time towards crew and ambassador statements, of a dozen or so beings who would clarify details, confirm the truth, or even highlight why else he'd deny or deck the General, it became time for closing statements.

Kif could've opted to say nothing, instead, he chose to tell the simple, clear-cut truth as he knew it.

"Madam, I've served our Democratic Order for decades, one of which under Zapp's command. I've no question that from my experiences, commanders who led out of respect, intellect, merit and kindness gave us our once-sterling reputation. Ever since I squirmed alive on my clan's grounds, I had always dreamed to join the ranks of the best peace-keepers, diplomats, and defenders of the entire Milky Way."

He then turned to face the crowd, eyes on the crew in particular, in giving an open palm.

"It's here I ask you all a simple question… What happened? How did we get so complacent, so clueless, so content to coast? Doesn't it chill and sicken you, my fellow citizens, that one mistake corrupted us into what we hoped to avoid? In just ten short years, no less?"

Further murmurs, as he moved towards them.

"Of his actions involving the universe, of his deeds towards our ranks, of his personal abuse against me, I made sure to collect, collate and document whatever I could of our eternity on bridge. And read my hookwormed lips, it'll be a cold day on Sol before we find another General as stupid, wasteful, and cruel, as Zapp Brannigan."

Those eyes began to flicker again, ones to have him slam his fist down and scare the front row into attention.

"Is THAT the leader you deserve? One who attacked allies and enemies without cause and without a clue? One who denied our universe's pleas for help, all to get himself into a civilian volunteer's pants? I had HUNDREDS of justifiable causes; the only time I lashed out was when, to score some further dates, he imposed our hostage situation as we fought The Zookeeper."

"Mr. Kroker, though you might have plenty to say about General Brannigan, I must insist that you wrap it up."

"My apologies, Madam. It was always my ultimate regret that I didn't berate and beat some sense into him before. To conclude, I remain of the firmest opinion that Brannigan has proven and always WAS unfit to be our General. But hey, don't listen to me, you've heard too much from me before."

The hookworms formed in his face as he returned to the podium, his sermon now over.

"Just do what you must, if your aim's to punish my crimes. To beg, cry or fight for my Order's ears has left me tired, so tired… But whatever happens, I'll leave your courtroom, my service or this life raising my head high, for I'd again do the exact same thing to the letter. Madam President, ambassadors, fellow soldiers, and citizens of New New York… That's that."

A collective hush came over the crowd, as Glab straightened her papers and squared her eyes Kif's way.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Kroker. If you'll excuse me for a quick moment…"

The lights began to flicker on, as she sidled down in her orange-sashed blue dress. Unbeknownst to Kif, she had already pored over all those logs and recordings among her select few; couldn't help but betray subtle sniffs and eyebrow raises as she dwarfed over her fellow being.

"If I may call our Generals League, to join me…"

"Uh, ma'am, is there something—"

"In light of your conduct, tenacity, fearlessness and diplomacy in our Order's gravest battles…"

"Not even a reprimand or—"

"—and with my greatest pleasure and pride, I hereby bestow congratulations upon you, Fourth Lieutenant Kif Kroker, as our newest Earthican Medal of Honour recipient."

Kif almost belched a breath of air as the crowd stopped dead silent, and then erupted into cheers. The highest military prestige one could earn; as Glab herself got behind and fastened the medal around his neck, Kif's palms had glued themselves to his lips. Didn't think the ceremony was real; only the crowd's roar and claps from the judge could convince him.

It left him squatting and crying a river of tears, for only this court would've housed the winners prior to him since the first recipient centuries ago. Among them his old superior officer, standing among the Generals League, who witnessed that once-Private stand beside him as equals. Kif's salute to the retired veteran, and their pull-in towards a tight squeeze, only more tears to shed.

But that wouldn't be the end of the surprises, for the newly decorated dynamo.

"And Mr. Kroker, as its sitting chairwoman and upon unanimous agreement among members, I also must inform of, and hereby extend, your invite to join our Society of Distinction, and all the ranks and privileges that bestows. Our way to commend and thank you for your outstanding service, on behalf of DOOP and all our member planets."

Poor Kif's knees had toppled him over again. First non-Earthling in their Society, first in almost two centuries to earn that medal. Now he had known; truly there was no grander pleasure than to have all one's efforts come full circle.

Making for each crew member, he almost caved their chests in for hugging them, and there'd been no better finish than his princess leaving him in fits of giggles and "Oh, mys", from her rapid assault of kisses. Several rows down, shedding his own tears, Mayfield only wished he could've sat there.

Court hadn't been adjourned yet however… Returning to her high lectern, President Glab would announce the name of one more man she wished to judge that day… General Zapp Brannigan.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Glab had once declared the General's career toast, when the jury handed down its unanimous conviction of him destroying DOOP's new headquarters in the Neutral Zone. $400 billion, flushed inside minutes, and they had never forgiven themselves for allowing Kif to be dragged into the mess as well.

And as the General got led in, they all leered toward his direction, pelting hisses and boos upon him as the surly, stubbled, and stout-gutted commander took his walk of shame. Either he forgot his girdle, or home detention had NOT been kind to him.

All throughout, he'd whisper accusations of disloyalty, before he ended up spotting Kif in the aisle. Gawking upon his once-servant's new prizes, he didn't much help his case.

 _"You vile worthless slug… Those should've been mine."_

 _"One-on-one, back of courthouse if you like… How 'bout you get them then, jackass?"_

Kif then rubbed on his prizes, no bigger Slurm-eating grin to give, to leave Zapp lunging with a roar. Another failure to make a whiskey shot of him, before the soldiers forcibly dragged him to the stand.

Seat taken, arms crossed and gut pushing him back, his eyes against Glab were defiant. Wasn't his first rodeo here, in fact, could've been his hundredth, two-fiftieth or thousandth if he could remember that many.

"General Zapp Brannigan, you stand accused of several crimes before us; assault, coercion, attempted murder, disgraceful conduct, treasonous war actions, and lastly flagrant misuses of superior command. How do you plead?"

"Absolutely 99% not guilty! And spare me the sanctions sweetheart, I know them by memory."

"Address me as Your Honour, in future. Very well, we shall get this underway. Prosecutor, please call your first witness."

When the creature's southern drawl had announced his name, Mayfield felt his heart plummet. The memories had burned strong against this one, and the temptations to return certain favours had him clench his fist.

"Do ah have a Mr. Mayfield tuh answer the witness stand?"

Not a word spoken in response.

"I repeat once more, do ah have—"

Leela soon rose up: "As his former supervisor, Your Honour, I'd like to testify on his behalf."

"But yuh are my second witness, Miss Leela, why—"

"I'd rather The General have a trial instead of a eulogy. I can't promise the former, if they see each other again."

For the suspicion in his eyes, Zapp had felt tempted to argue against such sudden changes, but soon the usual swagger returned to his face. To trade away 'The Zapper' to see justice done? It had him grin to himself.

"Very well, Turanga Leela, please take the stand."

Zapp's confidence wavered a deal when he received her best evil eye yet, even for all he got over the years.

"Miss Leela, Planet Express Captain and Head Pilot… How would, ah say, how would yuh come to know of Mr. Mayfield?"

A smirk lined her lips: "Let's take it from the top, like his toupee."

Murmurs from the crowd, as he gave an irked pat of his head.

"I'd know him during the first anniversary of my old crew's disappearance. His horrid roar would introduce him, and my face-to-face ass-kicking would introduce me. Over time, he'd become my rookie crewman, my fake fiancé, and a friend even considering his final hours."

The kid could only squat down in shame: _"Such a friend I turned out to be."_

"And how did his story shed light on Zapp and these accusations here?"

"Back at Zookeeper's fancy gala at the time, he'd be seated beside me while Zapp would proposition me that evening. He planned to offer me free 'dance lessons' inside his Lovenasium; almost choked on my bread before pulling the instant fiancé card. He'd be the lucky sucker, though it'd become a choice I'd end up regretting."

"How so?"

"Zapp was so desperate to have me in his bed, he'd threaten mine and my crew's lives by proxy. We were on Chapek-9, September 21st, having private talks with old 'friends' when my communicator began to buzz. Turned out he had bugged a laser gun he gifted me; wasn't long before we heard the roaring spacecraft, his ridiculous yodel, and a declaration of rescue. Which of course alerted the robots, and left us deep in a warzone.

The shouts of "Screw you, Zapp!" had rang through after those words, forcing some gavel thuds.

"All I saw was red that day, after our slim escape. Docked the Nimbus to get medical attention, and an explanation. Once I did, I spent an age beating the hell out of him. He'd then play further games against us, which first involved bargaining my rookie's life for a month of dates."

"So y'all eventually did come to date him? Take it that became a 12-piece bucket o' trouble?

"Understatement of the year. The crew and I created plans to hit back at Zookeeper; had me dating Zapp to organise a temporary 'regime change'. Exclusive requests and creepy advances aside, he cared for nothing else but himself. Hell, he only mocked my standing when I curiously questioned his career. I could've thought of whooping him again, but they do say to let fury have the hour…"

"Quite the choice of words, if the recordings were anything to go by."

"Only meant to remind him who I was, where I came from, and the difference I made for others. To highlight my preference of warm glows over his hot garbage. Minutes after, I'd get a communication from a friend I brought along, and some bad news. Zapp'd be in the middle of an unbelievable tantrum, having emptied his wine and the whiskey we had brought in."

"Do y'all recall what else happened after that?"

"Wasted beyond words, he put us both in lockdown. All I'd see since were plates being smashed, candles snapped and chairs tossed, one almost breaking his window. I tried to escape, only for him to break out his laser pistol. Thank large mercies for lucky misses, otherwise, we'd have both been ripped into the abyss."

Amidst growing unease, and after the remaining highlight reel of horrors, the Hyper-Chicken soon asked for closing words. She took a breath, stood up, and straightened her formal attire.

"I was a young and stupid Captain once, who fell headlong for his 'charms'. But over the years, I realised that beneath the high ranks and velour outfits, laid a pitiful child and pompous buffoon. May we never forget his crimes today, for he's never let me forget our first and ONLY time together."

A loud hoot from her boyfriend, and her nasty stare to shut him up quick…

"Prosecution roosts. Thank you Miss Leela, please take a seat."

The testimonies would continue, each holding Zapp in thorough contempt or severe liability, sometimes both. For the battles of recent months, the Octillian System of years ago, the honourable discharges to come in had plenty to share.

A 'surprise' that sent half a million to die on the Robot Homeworld; the crew couldn't imagine the scrambles, screams and smells to come. His retreat into the Captain's Quarters, to await his beloved now that his work had been done.

Further arguments that he ignored four hundred years of Chapek-9 history, which had scuttled all such preparations and left his 'sterling' record against robots in tatters. Not that such things would've mattered, anyway.

A recall of the Octillian System, of the army of Killbots programmed to annihilate it. For the soldier taking the stand, his guilt and duress interrupting the story, he could only pray as the General racked up body counts like pinball jackpots. Though the System was saved, it was seeing Zapp get a medal that broke him, that had him request discharge. Hadn't accepted quarters as change ever since.

Various leaders of several planets also came forward; terrifying shouts, Yiddish cursing or flat monotones most prevalent. The Omicronians had their young eaten during negotiations, Decapodian embassies were attacked without provocation, and Neutrals were almost kamikazed out of his intense hatred.

Though the latter's president held "no strong feelings one way or another", no-one else gave Zapp any sense of benevolence or advocacy. Before Glab called for him, The General looked like he'd spent a month over a hot spit.

"Does the accused have anything to say in their defence?"

"We all know how this ends Madam President, so quit wasting our time. I've got a date with my mirror."

For all the testifying, evidence, stories and opposition, he knew there'd be a technicality, a finger-lickin' mistake, or his service to consider.

After all, that green President had taken his side before, and often, because of those.

His decision now made, Glab had instructed the jury to make their deliberations. All twelve had ventured into an offside room, and all twelve had returned inside of thirty seconds. A mystery Neptunian shuffled his sheets, and cleared his throat.

"Your Honour, we find the defendant, Zapp Brannigan… GUILTY of all charges!"

Leela could only give a steam trains' hoot, as Zapp's defiance began to unravel. It had dawned upon him now that nothing could save him; no more excuses, no more supporters, no way to escape his self-made quicksand.

"Zapp Brannigan, you are hereby stripped of all rank and privileges, dismissed from our Democratic Order, and sentenced to twenty-five years in jail. This case is over!"

A thud of the gavel to leave Zapp crushed, only able to cry and drag his feet. Kif, however, had been wise to that game, and gave the immediate order to seize him.

As those soldiers dragged that ranting, kicking and screaming man away, Kif struggled not to laugh before he whispered _"Not this time, fatso"_ across to him.

Course, the good news hadn't stopped yet as Glab stood up, a wry smile offered Kif's way.

"Oh, and Mr. Kroker, I would advise that you don't strike your superior office again… I'm not the type to let such actions off easily."

"Excuse me Madam?"

"In light of Mr. Brannigan's sentence, and in addition to reimbursing your finances and benefits as appropriated, we wish to promote you to his former rank of General. Well done once again, and Godspeed."

What a day it had been… Kif once again got his share of big hugs and salutes, as the crowd had begun to disperse. A remark from his first General, on how fast they grew up, before the courthouse stood empty.

Unsure of whether he exposed himself or not, Mayfield looked about for the Planet Express crew. Spotting Zoidberg bringing up the rear, he had a sudden return of memories, and an epiphany for why he whispered in Nibbler's ear last night.

He now had his true gift to give, and he now knew who deserved it the most…


	53. Never Say Goodbye (6E)

**Chapter 54:**

 **Never Say Goodbye**

* * *

In perhaps a twisted sense of improvement, seeing Zoidberg well behind and virtually ignored had Mayfield quicken his feet towards him. Quite the contrary to when they first met, as he tapped a shoulder and turned the crab around.

"Mayfield, my friend!"

 _"Quiet, damn you! Listen, got a chance to come by my place? Perhaps for a little while?"_

"It'd be an honour."

Making sure Planet Express had gone, Mayfield would keep eyeing his keys as the two enjoyed a good stroll and story-time, of wars and friendships before he turned the lock. His early morning rise hadn't been kind; a big yawn and stretch in contrast to Zoidberg, who squealed towards the buffet of sights before him.

"A floor? A couch?" Scuttled to the other side. "A stocked fridge? Is that a queen bed? A big-screen TV?" Mayfield had trouble eyeing him. "Oh my God, there's the balcony view—hey, that's Planet Express!"

"Yep, she certainly has it all, and she's been through a lot."

He bowed to one knee: "You live among kings & queens, my liege… To bring a peasant like me in, I—"

"Can the kiss-ass act, crab. Just make yourself at home. Get as comfortable as you like."

Didn't need to be told twice; Zoidberg had already bounded onto the couch, clicking the TV on to flick through the channels. A big smile as he marked his scent, given where he usually laid his head.

Meanwhile, Mayfield shut his bedroom door and paced about; little silence and less time to express how he'd break the news. Even if he had been feeling leagues better, the biggest slice of his New New York cheesecake had remained tainted.

Could've imagined all the scrunched papers and dry pens, trying to piece the lot together…

Instead, he had only whispers as he packed his things. A decent wad of drawer cash, his clothes all nice & folded, and all those hygienic goods that soon sat and dug into his shoulder. A final peek beyond the horizon, and a look backward to the lobster who gifted him life.

"Zoidberg, could you mute the box for a sec? I wanted a few words."

"Of course, what's on your mind?"

Hearing the click, Mayfield took a seat beside him. Only a bowed head, a couple breaths, to give.

"First of all, I wanted to apologise. After I got my memory screwed, it took seeing you again to remind me of how considerate, how genuine, you'd turn out to be. For starters, I never imagined you saving someone who led you into such strife, and abused you for the privilege."

"Abuse? Nuts to that!" A wave of his claw. "You never raised a hand to me, so I wouldn't worry."

"Nevertheless, we're not here solely for my saying sorry, Second reason is, since seeing Farnsworth, I've been laid off from Planet Express. Don't think I'll ever be hired there again, either.

"What? Why?"

"Aside from ending things on rather hostile terms, the crew revealed that he'd make me redundant upon Fry's rescue. Come to think of it, I wonder if he's made good on his threats since I started."

"Good on what threats?"

"Take a guess, now that I'm jobless."

"All the miracles you worked, and it ends with him sending the police after you? Unbelievable, let me have a word and I'll—"

"I wouldn't worry myself. Let's just say I'd have watched the bastard burn in his own lab, unable to escape."

"Not a wise move, friend… Don't forget all those doomsday devices he's got lying about."

"Yeah, guess that's a hell of a bargaining chip. Truth is, having lost my job, I've got nothing else here."

"Nothing else? That's not true, Thomas! You have us, you have me, Zoidberg! I'm not sure what else, but surely there's a—"

"John, stop. Look at me. Would you know anyone hiring a man with one arm, two months of package delivery, and a few millennium-old degrees? A man who always thought his home lied in the 21st-century, before it all got ripped away?"

"Awww… I'm sorry, I had no idea. How 'bout a squirt of my empathy bladder?"

A rush of refusal: "No no no, that won't be necessary. Instead, and here's reason number three, I shall plan to return home. Seeing that I won't need this place anymore, well…"

He handed his house keys and pressed them over the doctor's claw, his eyes soon facing Zoidberg's widening ones.

"Let's say I've got some ancient"—he chopped his ankle—"yay-high friends who brought me here, that for all I've apparently done, have offered to repay me. I asked their favour to transfer ownership and look after this place. So whaddya say, interested?"

Zoidberg didn't decline in that moment, but still shook his head out of confusion and perhaps denial.

"All my life I've tried to do unto others, whatever that meant. All I got were dumpster houses, wage cuts, and everybody's hatred in return. What did I do to deserve this generous gift? Are you pulling my claw?"

"Well, showing others your barnacle-infested arse won't get you far, and your careless methods when I first started did leave me in bad spots. But that day I got beat to death a few weeks in, you saved my life, and that's what I won't forget. You were my hero that day, and these are the dues I believe you deserve."

"Thank you, Thomas… I promise, decapod's honour, that I'll keep it safe."

"Tch, do that for yourself more than honour, mate. Just promise me that you'll learn and take your time to save more lives, as you did mine. Maybe those creatures could help, they're damn fine teachers that I can remember."

To the one alien who—however indirect—gave him his start, Mayfield offered a big hug, vomit-inducing stench and all, before he left out the door and parted ways. His last sight of New Jersey just a stare towards the balcony, after he hailed a bus going express to the city.

Another terminal and another taxicab, trying to ask for the nearest airport. A very quick and snarky correction to say that they hadn't existed for some 500 years, as the realms of space became the territories to conquer.

"Look Mac, haven't you ever heard of the TTS?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What kind of New New Yorker are you? The Tube Transport System, man!"

"Never was one. So THOSE were what they did; seen 'em but wasn't sure about them, I guess."

"Just go inside the tube, give a destination, and you'll go straight there. What are you after?"

"One-way flight to home, if it weren't obvious enough."

"Right, well you'll want the South Street Spaceport, and unless you're coming into the city, we don't bother."

"Alright thanks. Could you spare a minute?"

"Oh, what now?"

Pulled out two crisp Brainos and Blobs, a hundred bucks in hand: "Here, as thanks for the help. Treat yourself on me, huh?"

Doubling back to a tube as the driver waved in appreciation, Mayfield asked for the Spaceport and felt himself sucked up like human liquid. A scream to give as he swerved, stopped and shifted about in sharp turns & speed, never more grateful for his tight jeans than he was now.

Though his teeth wound up chewing on solid ground, he was nevertheless happy to find it. Bad news soon followed; only one trip to Australia was available, and it'd involve a wait of six hours minimum before he'd be allowed to take off.

 _"Oh, for the love of…"_

"So you have any documents on you? Or a career chip we can scan?"

"Documents are centuries out of date, and you wouldn't believe my chip."

"Pick one, and quit wasting my time."

"Sure, you looked so busy. Fine, let's waste both our time, scan the chip."

She gave it the once-over, and pouted as predicted: "So it says you were born in the 20th century? Right, like anyone's gonna believe that… Whatever, that'll be $200 one-way."

Mayfield snatched his ticket and hurried for the terminal: _"Well, you've been quite the bitch, huh?"_

Dark, messy, empty, and covered in cobwebs, it looked like quite the unwelcome corner if nothing else. But no-one would suspect that he'd be hiding here, or anywhere in the city, before he'd fly off for good…

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

In the after-hours of those court trials, Planet Express had continued to deliver, even despite the cheeky catch-up or two between its Captain and her 'new charge'. To toast to their first day back together, Bender had snuck off on a quick liquor store spree to help them celebrate.

Pulling bottles of Old Fortran and whiskeys from his compartment, they declared a cheers and clinked, savouring those cold ones as the late mail call landed in their laps. Reading materials for the crew, Hermes' stapler, and the usual utility bills to come in.

While Professor readied himself to chime the closing bell, Leela's taste of whiskey left her curious enough to check the bottle. Small murmurs and chin cradles for finding DOT'S MATRIX, she'd have recognised that sharp bite before...

"Crazy to think it, but did anyone happen to see Thomas since Zookeeper turned him?"

"Can't say I have, Leela. Though speaking of missing sorts, where did Zoidberg get to?"

"Fry, really? Of all beings, he's the one you're worried about?"

"Just seemed strange, that's all. Even for him tagging along, we didn't drop him back off at HQ."

As the bell rang and everyone stood to leave, Leela carefully bit her lip as she moved towards the hangar exit.

Ever since she found his abandoned hero outfit, she had noticed the questionable marks he left behind. Professor's broken hand, his odd absence from court, perhaps associating with Zoidberg… No-one in their right mind, her emphasis, would ever do that.

It had her sprint for both old and new crew, having just exited the lobby themselves.

"Say guys, you got any time to spare?"

"Got forever for you, babe. What up?"

"Before we put him behind bars, Zookeeper planted some horrid memories in the kid's head. I'm hoping a quick trip to New Jersey, a chance to toast to our success, can fix that."

Bender spat bottled coding all over the sidewalk: "New Jersey? What success would anyone find down there?"

"Spleh! I'd sooner sleep on the couch in HQ, than be caught dead across that water."

"Believe me you two, he's made the best of BAD situations before. If you remember that apartment we checked out, well—"

"If that's where we're going Leels, then I'm good. Besides, the gang and I thought of our first-ever Ass Groove Olympics, starting with Bender's couch."

An eye-roll, though she had to smile: "Oh Lord, you serious? Shame you know, I was thinking that we could create grooves on MY couch after, but if—"

"Wait, whoa, what? Those Olympics can wait, let's gooo!"

A renewed hope, as she rubbed her ring finger: _"Heh heh heh, still got him wrapped like a burrito… Maybe more so, in due time."_

Following a couple rubs of gifted Miracle Cream, it didn't take long for them all to arrive at the apartment's ground floor, Bender carted on their shoulders.

"Man, to think this was our best option after that mess of staircases and killer squid grottos."

"You know, it's a blessing to hear those memories from you again. I really did miss them."

A smile between Fry and Leela as they sped up the stairs, halted outside Mayfield's place, and began to knock. When Zoidberg answered, they could've fallen backwards.

"Zoidberg? What the hell are you doing here, this is Mayfield's place."

"It was, until he gifted it my way a few hours ago. His thank-you for keeping him alive, I'm sure you remember why."

"Is that so? Well, we've better things to do than hang out here and with you, so would you know where he's gotten to?"

"Said he'd be returning home; no point staying here now that he had no job."

"Oh crud, and I'm sure I'd seen The Professor dial some numbers… Thanks Zoidberg, and next time, get back to work!"

Thoughts racing to mind like them over rivers or throughout the city, she remembered how she first met her charge. He'd been a scared, smelly, bitter little boy, one to make her espressos taste like lemonade. Well before they understood each other or their burdens, she placed good bets on him not surviving beyond his first day in the city.

And yet, his efforts in part had helped re-track her train-wrecked life, helped him leave as a man of potential accolade. Certain things she hoped to let him know, before she gave final farewells.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Having done shopping and eating to fight off sleep, Mayfield now sat in that terminal, counting ship after ship to take off for imagined picturesque worlds. A sight to see, watching all those backpackers, tourists, explorers and ambassadors try to cram inside, fearful for missing their flight.

Courtesy of inexplicable delays, a check of his watch informed that he still had another couple of hours before he could escape, before he could return to the Lucky Country. A once-plausible thought turned laughable; he'd felt luckier here than he'd ever been, for starters.

Might've once looked forward to being buried and forsaken, whiskey to corrode his corpse, but even for being 'dissed' in several ways; disfigured, dismembered, diseased and discarded, he knew he could at least 'distinguish' himself from the pitiable creature to once control him.

Course such silent, peaceful thoughts couldn't last.

"There he is! Now remember my orders, and stay calm."

Bounding out of his chair, he could've had a heart attack for who looked to see him off. The woman who caused and set off his very worst memories, followed by friends of hers it seemed.

"Hey hey hey, get the hell away from me! I'm leaving you all behind, isn't that enough?"

"For God's sake, relax! We've both had a common enemy, and we're just trying to set his messes right, okay?"

"After the gifts you've already given, you think I want more of them?"

"Gifts of a different kind. We will tell you the true story behind them, and damn our reputation either way."

One by one, they handed them across, and helped him come to terms. First, the hero outfit he left in her apartment. Had been about ready to bin it, until he heard of the recreation room, the battle to come, the 'coronation' he denied out of worthless pride. A grip of his skull, as memories started to scald.

Bender then started to play his recordings in the Nimbus. Of particular attention was his argument against Zapp; the way The General accused him, placed him under false arrest, beat him senseless… Could've sworn his eyes turned red, his teeth grinding against the sear that had come.

"ARRGGHH, I'll tear that fat bastard's guts out for this!"

 _"It's working, it's working, keep it up!"_

Amy brought along the footage of his time in Zookeeper's torture chamber, as Fry ran through the events. All over 'Miracle Cream', he'd been bound by cables, ordered broken apart by the man to corrupt him. No worse betrayal he'd known; the memory kicked in to have him on his knees, cursing a streak.

The cans of Trotter-brand cola, the bottle of DOT'S MATRIX, a half-full tube of Miracle Cream, the photos and the Symphod… In addition, Leela never shied from discussing her beatings—valid reasons or no—of him at the time.

Watching him begin to writhe and kick about, they soon pinned him down, hoping their efforts had been enough. A promise to take him back, at which point his replacement career chip got stabbed out of his hand. After some minutes to calm and reboot his mind, he opened wide to find his old Captain.

"Leela? Oh aren't you a sight to wake up to… So what's new?"

A small giggle: "What's new, he asks… Kid, just sit up and look. I'm sure you'll figure the rest out."

Having done so, he saw the faces to stare his way; former Captain aside, there was her co-pilot, her smile lighting the room. Next to her stood that robot, as memories of cigar smoke drifted around his skull. But the man to help him stand really left him befuddled.

"Hey wait a sec, who's the ginger haired bloke?"

"Keep searching… Perhaps think about our New Jersey whiskey and colas, while you do so."

A few more moments of closed eyes to wrap his head around the entire journey, before the truest sense of realisation struck. Always thought he'd be the quiet stoic sort when, or if, this get-together came to pass, but such moments didn't last as he fell in hushed murmurs and clasped faces.

Heaves in his chest, for the ultimate promise he had fulfilled, first time he could remember. A welling up of his eyes, for the glory of sweet redemption at his feet. Finally a golden warmth in his heart; for the grandest pleasures of kindness & sacrifice that became his to savour.

Old attitude to shrivel and die, as Leela gripped his shoulder and flashed the biggest smile he'd seen.

"So even for all our questionable hours, choices and outfits… Are we not heroes now?"

The answers finally his, all he had were screaming laughs as she pulled him into her embrace. For the true friendships both forged and tempered from day dot, he knew he'd perhaps never cry happier tears again.

The crew soon moved in, a big group hug that could've warmed the terminal for the entire winter to follow. Several minutes of certain bliss, before they prised each other off and Amy gave a friendly push.

"You sly little shklit… You thought you'd just fly away without saying goodbye?"

"Thought it'd be easier. Didn't think I did enough to deserve such farewell."

"Well Thomas, let those last few minutes convince you otherwise. I just wished our Professor thought the same, but I can't ever imagine him changing his ways."

Grateful for the words, Mayfield gave a hug to Amy, before he turned to the Captain.

"Thought I'd have no future without seeing your spaceship each morning, but I guess family matters more. Couldn't become a part Leela, but can say I did my part."

"So what got you thinking of leaving? We've got through this, relative peace is ours now. You're not gonna search anymore, even wait for my word to mean anything?"

"No need to worry 'bout your word anymore. Just that, since I first delivered, I didn't think my mortality could come so close to FORmality. So many things I haven't seen or done, once promised myself time to reverse all that…"

"Well, not gonna get any better time than now. So, what's first on your agenda?"

"Home, I suspect. Always took for granted my family's death, never got a chance to pay proper tribute. Apart from that closure, I just need the change of scenery."

Leela closed her eye and nodded; if there were ever a time to craft some Build-A-Bot likenesses, it was certainly now. A full month of exotic locales, just Fry and herself… The thought had her smile, as the conversations soon came to an end, and the alarms began to ring.

All those hours of waiting, now just five minutes until he had to board. Never imagined the time would arrive, now Mayfield wished it never did.

"To think I've rang her all these years… Only now, the Great Southern Land calls back."

Aside from Bender trying to have carte blanche of his bag, which Leela shut him down over, Mayfield farewelled all around with handshakes and hugs, until he faced Leela for the final time.

"Been a hellish ride lass, but glad we had it. I wonder, we ever gonna fly together again?"

"For the how, when and where, I cannot say. But you know damn well that duty always calls."

"Well until that day, promise me this. For whatever lies beyond, meet it as you met me. As beacons, as givers, as educators… As heroes. Thank you, so much, for everything."

"Right back atcha kid. And I'll meet yours if you meet mine… Don't stop believing, and never quit fighting. Okay?"

Her peck on his cheek and a tight squeeze from both, to all but concrete their friendship. Perhaps more than realised; even Fry expressed concerns despite all his 'celebrations' the day prior.

"Hey come on Tom, ease up. It was already hard enough losing her all this time."

"If Admiral's words about her are the same ones you action, you've nothing to fear. C'mere you!"

The two had soon hugged as tight as they could, before Fry flashed his favourite salute.

"Live long and prosper, friend."

Could've squealed when the salute and call was returned, before Mayfield began to board the painted, outdated craft. Ancient markings that he faintly recognised, that made him quite uncomfortable.

 _"Who the hell was I, to compare my suffering to theirs? You talk of seeing the light…"_

So much to think about, but as the escalator moved him, and as he grabbed a window seat, he soon heard Leela's voice clear through the glass.

"Stay out of trouble, you got it sport?"

"Why, Leela lass… D'ya think I'll ever do otherwise?"

A final fit of delighted laughing, his biggest salute, and then a blast-off towards another adventure, looking down as the crew smiled and waved him off. Well, save for a rebooting and cursing Bender.

And as she watched him vanish into the stars, as the crew said their goodbyes and made their leave, Leela couldn't help but rub a shoulder and grin to herself.

 _"Doubted you'd even last a day out here… Way to graduate with honours, kid."_

In so saying, she motioned ripping open her chest as she followed, and soon led, her crew out of the Spaceport. For duty always rang, and it was her turn to pick up and answer.


	54. Saving Best Memories Last (6E)

**Chapter 55:**

 **Saving Best Memories Last**

* * *

Closest to Hell he had ever been, but truest to Heaven that he'd ever find.

As the last of New New York washed through his eyes, perhaps more literal than he'd have liked, Mayfield spent every second staring towards it even once he broke atmosphere towards Australia. Nearly thirty years spent figuring things out, but just six months of city education to return home a man.

To think that shovel at Cookieville was six feet deep and long, perfect for a grave of his own making.

Eyes fading into blackness, he was just going to sleep when the craft came to hover, then crashed thudding into the ground. Could've tumbled out from shock or tiring, but knew instead he had that lone Customs officer—arms crossed and eyes glaring—to concentrate on.

For no longer having a career chip, or a single document to his name, his reflections could've ended right from the outset. Already got away from revealing his 'true' age once; he knew he had to play this hand.

Money over man still mattered for SOME circumstances; after all, he still carried plenty of reasons for why Planet Express, Zookeeper and Zapp Brannigan escaped their antics for so long.

"G'day mate, how's yourself, the missus and the ankle biters?"

"We're 'bout right on all counts, old bloke. Looking to enter?"

"Old bloke, he says… You've no idea. Anyway, didn't fly from New New York for sweet bugger all."

"You fair dinkum or stark raving? Why would you leave there to come here?"

Mayfield palmed a couple notes into the officer's hand: "I'm here on Gore and Nixon's behalf, they thought you deserved a break."

"These'll be beaut mate; whatever you're hiding, I never even knew."

Surprised to get away, Mayfield strolled around the rinky-dink Spaceport to locate a map, soon stumbling across a satellite sort that pulsed his location. Though creeped out, he knew he stood at the absolute tippy-top of the continent, what he once knew as the state of Queensland.

 _"Oh, how could I've ever blamed him? Wasn't like I was innocent, that I could explain such disappearance… How he never ripped my head off, I don't know."_

Not that Mayfield could find out—all transport services had been discontinued, leaving it to passengers to organise it all. News to leave him biting knuckles, for he couldn't imagine the thousands of miles, or dollars, to travel between here and home now.

"Ah, screw this journey. I need some sleep."

Four o'clock on a Friday afternoon, when he picked a quiet corner, propped up his bag, and slowly began to fade. Had his share of hard knocks, nothing he wasn't used to.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Before he saw someone shaking him awake, Mayfield had readied himself to thump them in the mouth. His eyes crusting open, the first thing he noticed was how impeccably dressed that elder gentleman looked.

" _Mmph, ugh…_ What, what, what? Can't a guy get a little sleep around here?"

"Sorry sir, are you Thomas Mayfield?"

"Last I checked, I was… How exactly did you know?"

"A pleasure!" he bowed and tipped his hat. "I'm here to escort you on Amy Wong's behalf, if you'll follow me."

"Really? My apologies for the rudeness then… Send her my grateful blessings when you get back."

How Amy organised such services from thousands of miles away, Mayfield didn't know nor care, as his eyes caught the national parks, flowing rivers, and country fields of wheat. The simple beauty he once missed, as it swayed or stood above the breeze.

Down Cube Root 531441, on open road & air, his first leg crossed mountains and cavern campgrounds, time-honoured tourist destinations that once popular, now stood empty. By the time he arrived at Bristled Crook Hovering Lodge, the brilliant starlight shone overhead, and though the expense had him seize up, it was worth it for the queen bed and breakfast.

 _"Pancakes drizzled in syrup… Creamy vanilla ice-cream… Rashers of crispy bacon…"_

However, the fancy gourmet food he did get offered made his stay a rather prickly one. Reminded him too much of the gala, and for having very little to do otherwise, he took off for the second leg as quick as he was able.

Saturday afternoon, and though the yawns and rumbles would remain, he'd still appreciate the buffet to speed past his eyes; tiny Outback settlements, once-prosperous trading posts, towns of ancient and fascinating discoveries. Names floating into his head like Mount Inevitable, Nowenden & Shortsway, as he continued to fight against the 15-hour difference—give or take—between his homes by fate, or by heritage.

Shortsway Pepperbush Lodgings the next stop; MUCH cheaper, comfier, and for both spring days and quaint towns at his back, nicer. Getting the breakfast he searched for, and often, he'd then begin his third leg.

Whitenone once had a rich history of sheep produce, plus a proud claim of being the true 'Black Stump' place of legend. But centuries ago over naming rights, a great civil war had been fought; no prizes for guessing the loser given that welcome sign…

Though he didn't know about Dullassie, Cookers Curve had become the eeriest location he ever kicked dust in. A rumoured ghost town even in his old days, he had since walked about in an absolute dead zone, every ounce of blood and life squeezed out.

A great relief to get away for the much livelier sight of Jourke, and its Riverside Suites to overlook the Darling River. Sure didn't make any friends at first…

"Now who was the rude bastard who named your town?" as the waiter took his order.

"A tourist, huh? We rhyme it with 'Rourke', okay?"

"No, I'm home-grown. And really? I thought it'd be more 'Burke' than… My stuff-up, mate."

Another fine meal, another chance to enjoy the town's exquisite views, and another chance to steal sleep when the time seemed to vanish. Halfway through to home, several more legs to cross yet…

The fourth leg had him pause in wonderment about who might've lived there, if not for himself. From further conversation with the gentleman, he also learnt of personal experiences working for the Wongs, at least before Amy purchased his services outright.

Save for Wontbelego, everywhere he passed seemed to relate in some way. First coming to this future, he'd have been the model citizen of Whoanellia, as far as the fanciful buildings, flying cars and freaky creatures would go. If it weren't for New New York, Leela might've found him at Carriathool; the competent lass passing by the clueless ass.

Both he and Zapp would've been clear outcasts in Gunterwooer, even if he at least had good intentions. And before he ever stepped into this world, he could've sworn he had always lived in Mount Hopeless.

Finally, as the moon dazzled his eyes, Mayfield crossed the state border into the town of Mehchuca, reportedly known for its full-bore, half-assed, care-nothing attitude cultivated over centuries.

Far from sleeping at 'The Mehcury & Enus'—such a run-down sign—he laid in eyes wide open, mind racing on being virtually a couple hundred miles from where he first lost his 'life.'

Almost a thousand summers later, he'd return in a few short hours.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Everything he ever worked for, left behind and lost in the process… Everything, just to return to this dump.

For the coal-roofed, mud-bricked dwelling he once called 'home', his eyes crinkled in venom as he swung out and stood from the hoversine. As it stood untouched, he shivered through his skin for the raw reminders of that existence. And that was before he grabbed the doorknob and opened up.

The stench of a dozen sewage plants had him muffle cries of _"Oh, GOD!"_ as he buried his mouth and nose, though not quick enough to avoid running, hunching over and giving the plants some free fertiliser. For all the good it did, he raced about each window to jolt them open, almost ripping his shirt to cover his nose.

But it was there where he discovered the fresh vomit, the trail to lead out the door, the empty bottle and burnt-out television. Only a kneel beside it in disbelief, for what might've disgusted him worse than the house.

 _"Che cazzo… How did I let myself sink that low?"_

In this unsalvageable quarantine now, as mould and growth had spread about the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom, he remembered whatever he could before catching a small piece of folded paper on the kitchen table.

Thought it first to be a long forgotten bill, at least until he unravelled it.

* * *

 **Wrong home to return to. Wouldn't you agree?**

 **– N**

* * *

At first he had to narrow an eye; took him a few moments to figure out what other home he had. A realisation to have his eyes grew, begin to dart about.

 _"No way, I could never go back there… All I've known from those years alone has been tragedy!"_

Even for such hesitation though, the need for fresh air had him grab his bag and barge out, bound inside the hoversine to give his oldest address. For the jittery nerves and anxious thoughts, a showing of the secret drinks cabinet; all kinds of personal favourites refused only out of fear. Needed that clear head, in case he answered somebody who wouldn't believe him.

Six months and countless lightyears clocked up, yet he still wasn't sure that he found his way home.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

Two, maybe three years—time warps aside—since he left it all behind. And yet it had remained almost as he remembered it.

Where that beautiful elm once stood, now a giant fruit tree of somehow any type to snack on. Windows like those of ancient steam carriages, figurines inspired by modern art, and a terracotta roof instead of shale. Of what he could see on that raised platform, a tanned brickwork that reflected off the sunlight. A small red lever to sit atop the white metal bannister, quite stuck out.

 _"What the hell, I came this far… Let's see what pulling it does."_

He could've screamed for almost falling off when that ground shook, the platform rising from under his feet, but instead settled for a grumble as he grew ready to knock, or ring the doorbell.

A sharp zap of his fist, and a security system to request his handprints.

 _"Oh crap and curses…_ Uh, I've only got the one."

"Not good enough. First name, last name?"

"Thomas Mayfield."

"I do not recognise that name! Be warned, you'll make a fine ash if you keep testing my patience. One last chance, who are the former residents?"

The worst time to draw a blank, for he just shook his head and lowered himself, admitting defeat. The system wasn't satisfied, and soon began charging its laser at his head.

"You've got five seconds to leave the property, or there'll be a hole where your head is! Five…"

Even for running faster than hellfire, he was forced to take cover behind the brick fence. Bits of mortar and concrete into his face, blinding and leaving him to wait for the inevitable. Until he heard the scream…

"DISARM, YOU BLOODY PSYCHO! DISARM!"

Washing his eyes from the nearby tap, he was left shaking in awe of his luck. A chance to raise up, and just be allowed in, finding all manner of fine details to flood back into memory. The paintings, the wedding photos, the hand-carved shelves, the experiences of youth that had long passed him.

Logic should've dictated that they'd all fade away to the passage of time, least until he remembered Leela's lessons on the impossible. For needing just his body amongst the mountains of other evidence, who would he be to question things nowadays?

A slow shuffle into his old bedroom, regrets flooding for having spent more hours in there than anywhere else. And yet, nothing he could recognise; initial impressions of a guest room before he spotted the angel painting above the bed.

 _"Ohhhhhh… Did they really think I was dead?"_

Bad enough to become a stranger in this place, and once he began hearing noises from the very depths of his ears, he hadn't any clue about what else to think.

Whoomps & thumps, stilted chatter in between. Nearing the back door, little scratchings of a pen, or an accidental shift of seats. Either his senses were stronger than remembered, or he'd just been imagining things…

A game of boules—maybe pétanque—in the works. One figure slinging those metal balls to have a good time, yet from what Mayfield could spot, he sensed that they weren't.

Absolute silence from the man, tall and bald from the back, even against the chattering beside him. Wearing just a simple t-shirt & shorts, a weird reminder of how warm he grew in leaving the hoversine of late.

For all the staring, Mayfield hadn't been able to see the gent's companions, but as he knocked to show good intention and ventured outside, he knew he couldn't turn back. Especially when the adults either stammered backwards, or a young athletic sort took him right down to the floor.

"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?!"

"I-I-I…"

"Wrong answer, strike one!"

"W-W-What the hell? I tried to run from that security system, but…"

"Hold just a second, our security system?" piped the older man. Over his stumbles, he soon postured normal.

"Yeah, yeah, was that what it was? I sure don't remember anything about handprints, name recognition, or anyone here sadly…"

"Let him go, Curtis. Let me get a good look at him."

 _"Curt?"_ The name rang a bell, and come to think of it, that voice sounded so similar to his…

Mayfield began to pick up details; the man to approach now had a face of bushy, scraggly sort, a belly to dip just a touch for each step he took. The man to pin him down had a neat beard and short hair, and standing unsure behind him, a woman of short and generous figure, wearing a braid. Only Curtis had avoided scars of any sort; weathered of age, or burnt by fury.

As his eyes wearied, the older man stared and tilted his head, unsure of any connection yet seeing one in his search. He asked for the kid's left hand; the fingertips had matched. He'd brush his hand against those cheeks, look him over from crown to chin. Over time, the hand began to clap over his mouth.

The one he helped name Thomas Anthony Mayfield IV; son of a delivery man, grandson of a writer, great-grandson of a war veteran, had returned home. A moment to dawn upon little Thomas too, as the child surfaced from within.

"Papa?"

They then seized each other, heads in shoulders, the true reunion releasing a silent squall of joy. It wasn't long before the woman and other man joined in, hugging just as tight, and fearing to let go.

"All these years to go by, and now our second good man returns home."

"Ohhhh… Please tell me this isn't a dream, that my little baby's home?"

"Christ, what the hell was I thinking? I should've known, brother."

As Mayfield's tears of relief and joy continued to fall, especially for confessing his never being the ideal son or brother, he saw the world that fast left him behind piece together again.

 _"Gods, all the months I spent searching for answers… Could any of you forgive me?"_

"Forget about it, sweetie. I can see in your eyes how much you've fought, to say nothing of what's left of you. I don't know what it is you've done, but from the way you stand now, it must've been for better."

His dad also clapped a hand on the lone shoulder.

"Our family was borne from generations of fighters & survivors; in all matters physical, mental, emotional or whatnot. And oftentimes, they never had ideas or even impressions as to how. Whatever test you got, it's clear that you passed."

"Hold on, a test? What the hell happened?"

"One way or another, we all had to 'embrace' the future; lessons, tutorials, self-reliance, or some home-schooled shit. For all the near-disasters on just OUR end, one you just realised now, we kept refusing and demanding return. Little bastards ignored us at first; asked ten times a day before they threatened our silence."

"Those motherfuckers! And when did Curt get here, figure into all this anyway?"

"You think I've got a clue? At first, thinking you killed our parents, I wanted you dead. Then I get knocked out, then I wake in the middle of nowhere, then some fuzzy little prick tells me I've travelled almost 1000 years into the future…"

"How did they test you?"

"Never told me a thing, except to 'rebuild' after losing everything. Had to find out piece by piece, my heart crushed each time. And they simply didn't care. Been that way since a couple years ago."

"I'm so sorry, man. Swear I WILL demand answers, but until then, maybe we'd better have a game."

Mayfield approached the packaged set of large metal balls; two of them remaining, appropriately enough.

" _Huh, this feels much lighter than I remember._ So whaddya say, a little backyard boules and story time? Doubt we'll get second chances like this again. How long has everyone got?"

"As long as you need, son." his dad nodded. "Hell, as long as we ALL need."

"Then, one more question for all… First to eleven, or twenty-one?"

With that the jacks were slung, the metal got heaved and the challenges were set, as the reunited clan readied themselves for the months of tales they weren't sure they could share.

And as Mayfield nailed a perfect backspin to kick things off, he knew he could count on at least one takeaway from the tombstones making way for them. No matter one's past, all you needed was true grit, the right people, and hopeful pinches of luck to grow trees where you once laid in.

Scoring the first point for hopefully his first boules win to come, Mayfield stood staring towards the skies, before he collected the balls and continued play…

 _"Captain, thank you. Here's your ladder back… Help them climb like you helped me."_


	55. Overdue Promotions (6E)

**Chapter 56:**

 **Overdue Promotions**

* * *

Twelve thousand hours. One by one, willingly or not, the original crew had counted them all.

During the moment when Bender saved his shiny metal ass, he'd have never computed the misery of Mayoral duties to come. Of having no true friends outside obedience, of made machines coming for his motherboard. Thought himself too great to suffer, until the truth was relayed and zapped into his antenna.

The day Leela thought her world had split apart, she never imagined the ambitions that Archbury still indulged in, nor of the conflicts to come. Aside from work only the tragic memories remained; it took serious efforts to snap her out, maybe even severe.

Since the months of being dragged along, strapped down and injected, Fry's headaches seared pictures to shame his believers. Saviour, peacemaker and flourisher under most forms of himself, yet destroyer, subjugator and plunderer as The Admiral. A fate that only his friends and unexpected messengers had helped him to avoid.

Together, in hopefully closing that chapter for good, they cracked open a brand new world, brimming full of second chances. And in the hours before Leela wished farewell, she sure didn't kid the kid about duty always calling.

Sometime after a delivery, she received a proposal to meet Kif aboard the Nimbus. Motives spurred from his old boss's threats, grudges and previous bloodshed, the new DOOP General had promised under personal creeds that he would ready his men for anything.

Part of that involved Leela signing THE landmark deal for Planet Express, at least judging by her dumbfounded silence. In exchange for extra rations, comfier uniforms and better equipment, they'd be paid out of a money ladder, leagues beyond any client she could remember thanks to Nixon's generous funding.

In between the big bucks, Army canonisings, and extra perks to follow; among them full support against damages and crate-loads of perfected serum, she had to pinch herself before taking stares towards the stars, before gripping Fry's hand for the walk home.

A future of true freedom, the likes she'd never known before, and perhaps since.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

The couple couldn't think of any better consolation prize than to caress each other in bed; her eye shut and smile wide, while he began to nestle on her chest. Dreams of pleasure and warmth for both, only interrupted when Fry flopped face-first to the mattress and woke up startled.

A situation to leave him scratching his head, ready to call out until he saw her scribble in fury, a strong coffee sat by her notepad in the kitchen.

"Morning Leels… What's got you so fired up?"

"Good morning!" she beamed. "Glad you're up, had myself some dreams of coming back to crime-fighting."

"Even after all you went through?" as he ordered a coffee, and sat beside.

"ESPECIALLY after. The kid was right; As a Cookieville survivor, who better than me to stand for the weak? Besides, that night when I ripped Zookeeper apart, all I knew was how much that side of me begged to come out again."

"I don't know if I should be scared, or aroused. Could I be scaroused?"

She gave a small chuckle, before revealing that Clobberella would no longer be back. Too much baggage from yesteryear's tragedies, and after her last victory, the persona deserved its dignified retirement.

This time, from the biggest comic geek she knew, she wanted suggestions on another look. A picture of all-business attraction, of emphasising her look without making it exclusive. A piece both picturesque and practical; comfortable to travel in, yet a look to scream 'badass.'

Not the easiest project to do research on, but Fry declared he would die before he didn't deliver.

An extreme option, as despite his expertise, and especially between their homes, HQ and beyond the horizon, all their inspirations and ideas left only broken pencils, crumpled papers and arguments to show for their efforts. Came a little to a head, during the weekend morning.

"Geez, what kind of comics do you read again? I could bend some rules, but like THAT?"

"Sorry babe, the shops I've seen only had those ones, and they weren't always read for story."

"Ughhh… There any wonder why I can't get this started?" There went the 100th draft, crumpled and tossed onto her floor, and don't get her started about her cabin. In fact, morning became evening when Fry would find Leela snoring over her desk, her chin cradled and ready to drop.

He was just about to slip his jacket around her—the weather having cooled in recent days—when she woke, crying "Ow!" as her head thudded the desk.

"Leela, how 'bout a little break? Maybe there's some cosmic bowling or—?"

"Crime never rests, Fry. To be honest, I thought you'd have me fighting by now."

As he used those drafts in an impromptu game of 'Paper is Lava', he could only shrug as he reached her bed.

"Well, sorry Leels. Been a while since I caught up, I mean—"

"Oh, don't worry, it's not your fault. Every Captain's got to get their bearings, and you're no exception."

"Tell me about it. Well, if I get any picture headaches, I'll let you know."

He then cracked open another comic, no word to leave his lips as he escaped real life once again. A chance stroll past the 20th-century store to find this one, and it must've been fate when Leela snapped at him to stop humming his song. Her glimpse of the cover, and a grin soon to follow.

"Hey Fry, do you mind if I borrow that comic from you?"

"Mi comic es su comic, babe. Now how's that for romance?"

"Oh, you've done better." She then curled her lips. "Maybe you could prove it later tonight?"

"Oh, you are SO on!"

As Fry left for having nothing else to do, Leela sat alone to scan the magazine. A copied variant of an All-Star Comic, circa 1976. Letters italicised & blocked, but no words needed for the white, red and gold-clad warrior shining underneath. Her fists possessing such power as to create the literal stars that adorned the cover.

And for how she angled those buns, flexed her arms, puffed her chest…

It had great overtures blast in Leela's head, having her almost tear the paper for the maddened notes scribbled down. A love story at first sight, and an origin to only enamour her more. This alien creature, sent to Earth to escape a dying planet. To live, learn, grow, and develop among humans, until she was ready to enter her role as that beacon of hope.

To shine in darkest times, to clear the skies of cloudy days…

For most enthusiasts, a tale older than the deepest caverns, but to the Captain, a shout-out to the life she never knew appreciation for. A story that, following a tweak or two, she knew could capture the minds and hearts of not just her city and country, but the entire world and universe too.

Could see it now; a lovely summer day, a typical bank-robber, and her cutting off to shake him before shattering his jaw. Cue a pose over the prone body, that ever-mysterious hero wind to flutter her hair, and some personal mementos before the news cameras flashed in…

As such thoughts whirled through her head, as the clock hands moved miles for her work, she finally began listing the goods she needed. To that tweaked base outfit, brand new accessories and golden eye symbols to put it together. For the rest, three yards each of sturdy material, ones to gleam and glimmer given the right light and movement.

Her look now firm in mind, she started to get serious quotes from around the nation, all as she gathered ideas on the tools she'd grab to make law life a little easier. Anti-grav belts, her share of guns, other nifty gadgets…

 _"Slow down, don't get too excited…"_

Thankful for Battler's gear being left behind, she had the outfit to call and crunch numbers in private, at will. A generous estimate was projected from two days to two weeks, minimum cost of a cash-only five figures. For all she wanted, it wouldn't be just the discovery of rare materials to trouble her contacts. There'd be the collection, the upgrades, the additional tech, the labour, delivery & gratuities…

They had been expenses to baulk at, until she remembered the frozen assets that Kif had kept handy. Back then she might've been tempted to kill her tyrant-in-waiting, but she did promise to reduce him to nothing first.

Checking out all those works, apparently proving herself wrong about superhero planets in the process, she called back one mystery seamstress to give her the go-ahead; all her dimensions, muscle sizes and other details.

The world wouldn't save itself, even as the crew worried for her new obsession of late.

 **¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)**

The weekend AND work week's end had turned to dust before long; whether Leela's excitement, Professor's experiments or the crew's return to normalcy, none could say. Even so, when the Captain received word that payments had been catered for, that her delivery was incoming, she couldn't help but pace about and stroke her hair.

Out of nowhere she ordered the ship washed down, caring nothing for crew complaints as she got stuck into her corner gym, desperate to distract herself.

Complaints turned to bemusement, as she rained thumping blows upon leather, clanged and banged her iron.

"What in Nixon's flab-riddled jowls has gotten her worked up?" Bender demanded.

"I don't know dude, it's been the strangest thing. Found some 20th century comic walking about some time ago, and as I was reading it, she asked to borrow it. Thought it'd be another one to discard, but…"

He then trailed off and shrugged, working the windows instead. Just as well; wouldn't believe the answer to come.

It'd take several false alarms before she whispered a code, wrote a secret signature, and got a solid wooden box wheeled through the hangar. One to dwarf and outsize her, to have her yell up that she would perform a ship-wide stocktake.

"Um, Captain? You just did that like an hour ago, and—"

"And what, Fry?"

"Never mind."

All she had to say before disappearing into the cargo hold, her crowbar handy to heave and hoe into that hopeful treasure. A mannequin to her quantum exacts, or so she'd been told, to stand modelled and ready for action.

 _"Well this is it, new style, new hero, new chapter. God, I sure hope they did right by me."_

Such thoughts and more had her in hair pulls as she seized the one-piece bathing suit, fumbled for the near-camouflage zip to hold it together. In perhaps unsure mutters, she stripped off, stepped in, and stretched it around, a fight from arms to chest before the zip met her neck.

The gem-like glimmer had perked her up as she glanced over; reading through the booklet, she found it had boasted loadout-based technology for today's woman on the go. Abilities to 'consume' and replicate up to two dozen different outfits, guaranteeing readiness at a finger-snap's notice, wherever she was and for whatever occasion.

Taking time to stretch, squat, spin and swing her shadow punches, she only grew snugger and snugger… So far a great start, and for whoever chose to check out her window, easy distraction for an easy knock-out.

Next up she reached for the skirt, a mini circle design that reflected on and re-defined those teenage years. Halfway to her kneecaps instead of her feet, to sheer and shine when the lights caught in the pleats. One might've got basic instincts as she strutted about the cabin, feeling her loves of business and fun flow about.

Next came all the accessories; gloves and boots that glinted like her eye and got finished in golden accents. Her gloves like Captain Yesterday's, her boots meant to stomp a justice-sized hole in crime without falling so often.

Her belt a bright red, its centrepiece a gold-backed sapphire 'eye' in its middle. Her tribute to that comic that kicked it all off, before she swung her final piece around her shoulders.

A gold-lined midnight blue cape, to clasp with a golden click around her neck. Another dedication to her rekindled love, one to hover level with her boots. And as she posed about, she let herself bend forward to let it cascade down her shoulders, shining like sapphires all the while.

Her homage to the army through the stylised 'C' on her back, within a diamond, wing-extended shape. And as she untied and massaged her hair, before her fists met her hips, she stood in her mirror, truly ready.

 _"Criminals might've forgotten the frozen mercy of Clobberella, but they shall cower before my fists flying, my guns blazing… as The Commander."_

Could've cracked the Cheshire Cat's jaw once she finished smiling; even fancied a whole bunch of magazine flexes, fight stances and Friday night flights, at least until the frantic calls and knocks on her cabin.

"Hey Captain? Just had a few DOOP packages come in!"

A sudden gasp as she checked the time; somehow she'd been modelling for at least an hour. A rush to read the packaged instructions, as the knocks became loud thumps.

"Hello? You alright in there?"

"I'll be a minute!"

Letting her outfit 'eat' her work uniform, she then flick, flick, flicked through her booklet to whisper _"Normal",_ and return into her stretch gear. No different than how they saw her this morning, only a chuckle and hasty hair-tying might've betrayed her new look to her lover, standing outside her cabin.

"Phew, sorry about that. Just been such a busy couple weeks, I thought I'd relax for a while."

She then ordered her crew to prepare for launch, and moments later, they'd find themselves off on another adventure in the stars.

Course, Fry still had his question when she handed back his comic.

"You, the type to nap? You'd have been bored to death… You sure you're alright?"

"Darling relax!" she laughed, giving a small kiss. "In fact, forget just feeling alright… I'm doing quite wondrous today."

And it'd be those words to leave Fry confused, but thankful, as they returned to bridge ready to fulfil those latest requests from the Democratic Order of Planets.

* * *

 **And that's the end of the story... Thank you so much for reading!**


	56. NEW CHAPTER 38 & REWORKS

Space finally hers to breathe, Leela figured she'd relieve Zapp, fingers crossed, of any stowaways.

Yet for quick errands all; clean clothes, ship repairs and dinner set purchases, she just couldn't help but squirm for docking aboard the Nimbus. Shivers as Kif stood ready at her ship, gritted teeth for taking that wrong turn… The worst of both when she realised who her escort was for.

"Was hoping you'd come back. Top, bottom or beside me, you've always been my favourite Captain. Pains me so to do this…"

No words as she'd wince for wrists being grabbed; metal and laser cuffs to form over them. Could've caught flies; instead she'd crane her neck, purse her lips and slit her eye for both, despite Kif's eyes of shame.

"Oh Lord, I'm under arrest? What grounds this time, you overspilt sack of crap?"

His pose of classic heroes, a head jut to the roof: "For littering aboard a DOOP vessel; under Brannigan's Law, arrest is mandatory."

"I haven't eaten a single crumb since I—"

His look back: "You've still discarded trash on my ship, regardless. You're smart for a woman, you'll figure it out."

"Oh you've GOT to be kidding me! Now it's a felony to save a life?"

"For the life you saved, you should feel lucky that I bargained you down from treason. Grateful, I might add. Threaten this DOOP General, threaten our entire planet. End of story."

"You keep telling yourself that, 'cause NO-ONE else will. And really? You've seen Mayfield, what threat could he possibly present? And unless it's anything other than 'love', don't bother."

"Aside from doing it Leela, you left my competition behind. Seems we WERE meant to be after all…"

The General then led her beyond the Med-Bays and towards a glass-encased airlock, his arm wrapped and squeezing a shoulder the whole while. To see the kid lie, still the Swiss cheese of such weeks ago, had Leela attempt to break out.

No such luck, but thankful whispers to check his monitor. Vitals to remain steady and the worms not quitting yet; course, all it'd take was a slip of the hand…

"You. Rat. Bastard…"

"Quite the alien anomaly, your friend. Figured for my safety, I'd give him his own private wing. I'm of an opinion that he can fly, but how 'bout a month of dates to let you both go? You & me, our favourite Lovenasium?"

"How about zero dates?"

"I'm the one holding the cards now Leela, so let the negotiations begin.… Three weeks."

"My offer remains at zero."

"Two weeks."

"Zero will remain zero, end of discussion."

"A shame, really…" His finger to inch towards the button: "Your boy had so much potential."

"Haven't the time nor patience, so listen good General. As we speak, I have a 'friend' who's eager to declare war, for everything my crews—then, now and by my order—have done. And for the one you're holding hostage, he's not the type to negotiate a deal."

"Explains so much why you keep coming back," Zapp palmed his hips. "To have friends declare war, no wonder you need—"

" _Jefferson my starship…_ 'Friend' is being sarcastic, idiot! Had a side hustle once; we'd meet and grudge over his planned Gemerald heist. Foiled the theft but not him; never knew he—"

"Mm-hmm, uh-huh, I see—" Eyes anywhere but on Leela, chin to rest upon fingers.

A foot stomp to grab him back, his hop about before he'd cuff Leela's legs too. "Ages after he won our feud, he'd STILL choose to rip our lives apart. Long story short, I've begged for his head since, and we've never come closer now."

"And where does your fiancé figure in all this?"

"His secrets, our efforts, and a scumbag well-served. 'Friend' to desire that I lose everything; business hasn't been better, I've found old friends through new ones, and together, we reduced HIM to nothing. So question Zapp, think he'll appreciate you protecting him all those weeks?"

"A classic Captain's bluff, but my high card beats your beautiful pair, every time."

"You willing to straight flush yourself, and your full house Nimbus, on such a gamble? I'm offering a huge lifeline in taking him back, so I'd suggest you shut up and thank me… We BOTH know you've failed against much less."

"An offer to consider in good time. Or if you ask a little more 'sexfully', an answer right now."

Her attempts to purr, though not without a sigh: "Please? Big Z? You can rub on my skin cream?"

"Oh-ho, score one for Brannigan!" A pump of fists, before shaking her: "Where is it, where is it?"

A lift of her left boot; eager Zapp to almost topple her for ripping it off. Tube snatched off the ground, a good glob soon on his glove. Over her face, down her arms, and then a deep dive into her tank top, smooth glides from start to finish.

"No better appetiser Captain… Soon you'll be tasting my sweet, sweet Miracle Cream. Bam." She'd almost paint the place in bile for his crotch point, until she heard her restraints groan.

"Frankly my Captain,"—she'd grin and kiss goodnight—"I've much better plans."

Moments to break free and finger-flick his skull, wet concrete to drop cold. Easy drag of body to scan his hand; glass doors to slide open as she'd rip those tubes off and carry Mayfield over her shoulder. Temptations to toss Zapp inside, figured a sprint to save a life was a better use of time.

Body laid on the nearest bed, soon the sounds of crushed ceramic and broken metal.

Pieces lined in his gut, a gentle clasp of hands as she watched the break down. Many minutes to tick, before she'd find the organs rebuild and the wounds patch up. Whole life even to now; do things right, do them yourself.

To see him curse Bender's name, take stock of the lilac sheets and large window, was to have her breathe deep.

"Ugghhh, fair dinkum… Feel like I've woken from a bloody autopsy."

"Don't ever say that, Thomas. You don't realise how close you ended up."

"Captain? Oh aren't you a sight for sore everythings? Could've sworn I'd been ripped to shreds, the hell did we—"

"You just get in the shower, while I get us home. I've a feeling there'll be much to discuss."

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Kid's hug and kiss of solid land, to sweep a fiery courage through Captain and HQ.

But to see the whiskeys and ciders wheeled in, a grill to sizzle, and everyone hustle into hugs, it'd just have him scratch his head. Such celebrations to need a reason, but on the other hand—odd turn of phrase—he wasn't sure for what.

Bender's raise of tongs as the kid wiped spit from his lips: "Sup, cue-ball? Figured we'd enjoy some good barbecue, you in?"

"Sure, but just one question… The hell'd you shove me up front for? Just 'cause you couldn't wait a minute, I had to get aired out by lasers?"

"Because you were in my way, and wasting my time." A glare as red-hot tongs aimed at the scar. "Turns out to grill that meatbag, we DON'T need you."

"Whoa, hold it!" Leela got in between. "It's true we did the hard work Bender, but Thomas here kicked us off. Kept our secrets too; had he not, we'd have never gotten this far…"

Tempers cooled as she sat near the cooler, cracking open a cider.

"So kid, what do you remember of Chapek-9?"

"Aside from Bender's shove? We'd tell stories and erase his part, there'd be some God-awful yodel, we'd get plunged into war, and—"

"That's good enough. You can thank Captain Craven for the war; robots believed we started it. His tracker, from a 'gift' of his, the culprit. When you didn't die in the crossfire, he left you inside his ship's spare airlock. Instead of medical attention, he'd bargain your life for my favours."

Bile to surge up the kid's throat: "I see him again… swear I'll rip his SPINE out!"

"Pffft, good luck finding it. Nuking our alliance aside, all he did was waste soldiers and put us in danger. Best part though? I got a guard of honour once I got done whupping him."

"Sorry lady, but he deserves my taste too. Even though you deliver it leagues better."

"Kid, if I couldn't knock sense into him, what hope do you have? Way he spoke about you, about those he doomed, I'd—"

"Let's just move on. So for all the happy faces, drinks and barbecues, I imagine you all did well?"

"Exposed and erased Reggie's rep, caused tens of millions in damages, stole his only world-ending serum. All in about two weeks, so why don't you tell me?"

"Struth? That's news I'll drink to! And yet I can't believe it—"

"Oh who cares, you insufferable mirror-head?" Bender cut him off. "Guy's as good as gone, he's never coming back!"

"Bender, you do realise he's still—"

Again the tongs to brandish: "I SAID JOIN US!"

"And I reply shut up & listen! Fact is, Bender, he's still got Fry. Fact is, he ripped me apart for my so-called secrets, even for having everything. Fact is, had Leela not fed me that sandwich, I doubt I'd be sitting here."

"What is it with you meat-bags and being so fragile?"

"Fragile though I am, forgetful I am NOT. He's no longer the lion, it's true, but he's still a walking honey badger. Corner a creature like that, and you'll beg that you backed off."

Bender grumbled and kept cooking, while Leela handed Mayfield the sample. One to scare him to his core, swore he could've created a void just for pouring it.

"And Gods forbid, here's where it all begins… Keep those snags hot and whiskeys cool, I'll be back soon."

No knock, cry out or yell, to earn any response beyond those doors. Shrugs of shoulders as he just kicked through them instead, wood splinters to scatter everywhere.

"MAYFIELD, I just had those fixed this morning… That's coming right out of your pay!"

"Send the bill after wrinkle-head, right now, we've work to do. Captain pilfered this a week ago; we believe it was used to enslave Fry."

Handed the vial over, so they could both inspect. A bony hand to hold bottomless evil, and he knew more than the kid.

"Satan be my witness, and shudder… What do you request that I do with this?"

"We'll figure the details as we go along, just keep it safe now. Guy we stole it from knows about us, and he'll look to retaliate any day now. He takes back that vial, we're all fucked."

"Language! And child, I may crack bones more than theories these days, but I'll still remind YOU and him of what I can do. He thinks he'll steal my sole pleasures away, he's got another thing damn well coming!"

"Appreciate your hellfire Farnsey, but—"

"The name's FARNSWORTH, confound you! And hell with your approval, just get out of my way!"

"A valid point, just… Take care of yourself, huh?"

Still couldn't help but reserve his steps, fears and doubts to linger over the genuine good vibes. No DOT n' Trot to calm him, nor plate piled high with meat and veg to sate him. Maybe just the stories, to remind him of an ancient folk hero… The Man from Snowy River.

Country horseman, best to ride, tasked to track down an escaped colt of a prized racehorse. Crew gathered to chase the colt's mob, hours and hours down empty plains and up summits, until those wild beasts tackled the slope of loose stones, fallen timber and wombat holes.

Any slip an instant death, every rider to halt. Would believe and accept that their prize was gone, but The Man would echo his holler, give the horse his head, and plunge down from the peak. Stockwhip lashes and fearless gallops, to not just survive the descent, but stun the riders for corralling that entire mob.

Quick notes of an epic chase; begged for a galactic remake. Captain and crew as the horsemen, both safe returns and peace as the mob, and Zookeeper & Zapp—possibly—as that entire ride ahead.

For the few hours of fun and stories, and worries aside for missing rent, Mayfield would wish everyone goodnight, his tummy full and head enjoying a buzz. Didn't think it'd get worse than his first days—back home & here—without family.

But to look backwards towards HQ, and encounter that next week he'd sooner forget, he'd admit to believing that he could handle things on his own now. Life to take its gradual climb to normal, a climb that all the crew could cherish.

No way could they suffer much worse, not even from their greatest arch-nemesis of all.

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A windy Friday evening, and an intruder ready to rebuild from the ground up.

Their tube to HQ and a scan about the perimeter, fits of snickers for the ease of entry. Big bag of burglar's tools in their hands, and quite the skill to stay quiet and sneak about, soon sighting their all-time PITAs.

Those proven pains to prepare his gun; locked, cocked and dying to shock them out of commission.

 _"Well well, all days to declare overtime… Lucky I've a few charges handy."_

Through a scope, three headshots in the dark to drop them. Captain, pupil and mutual friend to scream and shout, but no further resistance as they took the chance to loot them. A scent to wrinkle noses, and not the only secret as they slunk around the lab.

 _"Terrible shame, just robot decoys. But what's this before them?"_

A sheet pulled off to reveal HQ's machine; a fiddle and mess 'round to bring about a sinister smirk.

 _"Of course, how could I've been so blind? Such brilliant technology, only one man capable of creating it. And speak of the devil…"_

Not five minutes after came Farnsworth on the hunt; midnight snack to leave him incurious to the crackles, sparks and molten steel. For the beast below, a lick of lips and rub of hands.

 _"A two-for-one buffet… My long search is over, it seems."_

A flush of face to stalk such prey, but a necessary task as they'd jolt backwards into the fridge.

"W-w-w-w… Who the hell are you?"

"My dear friend… Hubert Farnsworth, I presume?"

Hands to pounce over that throat, leave that ancient corpse clawing for air as the squeeze grew tighter.

"I'll be the one to ask questions. You help me out, there'll be no concern nor monkey business from me."

"Get out of my headquarters, Zookeeper!"

"No, no, no… That won't do." Almost blacked him out, a miracle he didn't break his neck. "May I remind you old man, that you've got 206 bones, and that you're trying for zero? Now let's try again."

"Take my bones, I don't care! Kidnap my uncle, only request you'll get is to GO TO HELL!"

"You can give me a guided tour, I'd bet. But otherwise, perhaps I can sweeten the pot."

A look given to melt flesh from bone, to break seventeen decades' of stubborn pride then and there.

"You want your uncle back, I want answers. Refuse, and not only will I 'retire' him, I'll personally leave nothing to clone from. Your crew and colleagues will know of your choice; imagine they'll expose every last corner of your life… Do I make myself clear?"

Not the first threat of blackmail, but the first to likely go through. Pleading to be let go, he'd shuffle his quickest to expose the lot; blueprints in that drawer, extra notes in the counter, whatever Zookeeper wanted and then some.

"My my, sack hasn't been this full in years. That wasn't hard now, was it?"

"There, there, you got what you wanted… Now get out!"

"Yes, it's tiring to be a tyrant. How 'bout your one to three grams of L-tryptophan?"

"Hu-wha? What are you—"

Those forearms to cut the air from his throat; wasn't long before Zookeeper carried him to his ensuite. After a nice tuck into bed, and getting the green light on threats, he'd rub his copy of Miracle Cream upon himself.

Knew he'd game himself too great an advantage, especially once his fists crucified the cloning machine. After that they could keep the vial; wouldn't live long enough to reverse-engineer it, even if they could.

As Saturday's midnight hour came to pass, Zookeeper would rehome in his icy cavern—how it stood through those summers, no-one dared to ask. His stolen plans spread out, black coffees to bury them, while the walls would echo with voices, hums of study, and scratches over schematics.

Thuds and booms of hammers on metal, a crackling fusion for those welds together, and a most colourful vocabulary for each presumed mistake. Sunday sunrise to put the final touches together, his modern spin on Farnsworth's classic.

To crane the necks of giraffes, to stand wider than a row of elephants, and to rival supercomputers, the CM2.0. Thirty straight hours of work and miracles, and still needs to test her as he slid his secret policy inside.

To watch his baby go orders beyond not just the original, but anything an academy of inventors could imagine, it'd release a laugh to chill the Sun.

To count those dozen tubes in a minute, all limits broken, was to have him enjoy a ramble of command, victory and realising a dream. First of several folders soon in his hands; personal details of the one he missed mangling the most.

"First, I'll loot my tribute from little Thomas, erase that crew from existence, and rend that HQ to rubble. So congratulations Planet Express! You've graduated from the cubs table, now prepare to play among lions!"

The night spent enacting HIS laws of the jungle, just for those who gifted him back the old life…


End file.
